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THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 


•The 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA   •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


THE  WAY  OF  PERFECT 
LOVE 


BY 
GEORGIANA  GODDARD    KING 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1908 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 
Bv  GEORGIANA  GODDARD    KING. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  September,  1908. 


Nortonot)  lirtas 

J,  8.  Cashing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


TO 

ALL 

BELOVED 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ARGUMENT       .         .  r 

THE  WAY  OF  PERFECT  LOVE 

Act  I  5 

Act  II      ....  -27 

Act  III 55 

Act  IV     ....  -79 

INTERPRETATION        .....••     IO7 


[vii] 


THE  DUKE 

THE  DUCHESS,  HIS  COUSIN  LIONELLA 

THE  WAYFARER,  PEREGRINO,  CALLED  MASTER  PIEPOWDER 

THE  SHEPHERD 

THE  DUCHESS'S  WAITING  GENTLEWOMEN 
ARIANNA 
MAFALDA 
ORSOLA 
IPPOLYTA 
LAODOMIA 

ISOTTA 
FlAMMETTA 

THE  SPINNERS 
EVA 

MADDALENA 
MICAELA 


ARGUMENT 

LIONELLA,  the  daughter  of  the  late  Duke,  being  un 
touched  by  love,  lived  a  maid  among  her  seven  hand 
maidens,  seeking  always  to  understand  love's  nature, 
until  one  time,  —  whereas  the  Duke,  her  cousin,  had 
long  since  sought  her  in  marriage  vainly,  —  a  Strolling 
Player  drew  her  away  to  follow  him  over  the  world. 
Finding  at  last  that  he  loved  her  less  than  the  freedom 
of  the  soul,  she  found  the  courage  to  send  him  from  her. 
Then  she  was  sheltered  by  a  Shepherd,  whom  —  he 
worshipping  her  as  something  half-divine  —  she  came 
to  love  in  his  turn,  until  the  years  brought  by  the  Way 
farer  again  and  renewed  the  summons  of  the  unknown 
and  the  unfettered,  breaking  up  her  life  of  simpler  affec 
tions.  The  Lady  Lionella,  thereupon,  detached  from 
the  Wayfarer  and  the  Shepherd  alike,  and  withdrawn 
alone  into  the  deep  woods,  was  further  purified  by  fast 
ing  and  contemplation,  and  prepared  for  her  ultimate 
destiny  of  marriage  with  her  cousin,  the  assumption  of 
duties  of  state,  the  care  of  her  father's  subjects.  Her 
presence  in  the  Palace  had  not  been  missed,  for  her 
Waiting  Gentlewomen  had  by  turns  supplied  her  place; 
her  reappearance  in  the  world  was  the  signal,  throughout 
the  duchy,  for  indescribable  happiness. 

The  Shepherd,  turning  from  earthly  love  to  heavenly, 
had  moved  steadfastly  meanwhile  towards  perfection; 
so  likewise  had  Messer  Peregrino,  following,  through  all 
these  years,  with  a  soul  emancipate,  desire  unattainable 
and  therefore  immortal. 


THE   WAY    OF    PERFECT    LOVE 


ACT   I 

In  the  garden  of  the  Duchess's  pleasure-palace.     The  Duchess, 
her  seven   flatting  Gentlewomen. 

THE  SEVEN  GENTLEWOMEN 

Welladay  I 

Love  is  a  tyrannous  lord. 
How  shall  we  worship  accord 
Or  set  our  feet  in  his  way? 

Lord  of  the  world 

And  of  life  the  master! 
The  stars  are  whirled 

In  their  orbits  faster 
By  his  wings  unfurled. 
Welladay, 
Love  is  a  tyrannous  lord! 

DUCHESS 

My  gentle  hearts,  what  is  your  song  ? 
Though  I  have  worshipped  now  so  long 
I  think  I  have  not  known  this  love, 
But  as  flowers  track  the  sun  above, 
Who  lightens  many  ardent  lands. 
Orsola,  unclasp  those  slender  hands, 
To  tell  me  love,  from  the  lute's  neck. 

[5] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

ORSOLA 

Love  is  the  flower  most  apt  to  deck 
Our  beauty;   when  the  feast  is  done, 
Colour,  savour,  alike  are  gone. 

DUCHESS 

Silent  Laodomia,  over-wise, 

What  wisdom  smoulders  in  your  eyes  ? 

LAODOMIA 

'Tis  the  amulet  o'ercharactered 
Whose  virtue  is  lost  if  it  be  read 
Even  by  him  who  hath  control; 
I  mean,  the  master  of  my  soul. 

DUCHESS 

Unknit,  Isotta,  arched  brows, 
Unveil  gold-crisped  locks,  and  rouse 
The  dreaming  heart  its  dream  to  tell. 

ISOTTA 

I  do  repudiate  your  spell: 
Love  is  a  perfect  polity 
Where  two  a  single  creature  be, 

O  * 

Each  takes,  for  leave  to  give,  —  in  fine 
Each  is  the  other's  only  mine. 

DUCHESS 

Arianna  of  the  long  white  throat, 

Your  lauds  ? 

ARIANNA 

I  cannot  praise  by  rote. 
I  hold  love's  power  a  wanton  boy's, 
Unequal  to  the  soul's  grave  joys. 

[6] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

DUCHESS 

Fiammetta's  lips  are  fine  and  thin, 
A  live  pale  red;   can  they  speak  sin 
Against  love's  godhead  ? 

FlAMMETTA 

Love  is  a  fire, 

Madonna,  immortal  bright  desire, 
Self-fed  and  unconsumed,  the  same 
As  that  bush  Moyses  saw  aflame. 
Who  knows  vain  love,  he  knows  as  well 
How  look  the  Blessed  watched  from  hell : 
Who  knows  love's  gladness  fears  not  God, 
He  touches  heaven's  period. 

DUCHESS 

Have  a  care,  child ! 

ORSOLA 

Your  blown  words  flare 
Like  lambent  tongues  of  flame. 

DUCHESS 

Declare 

Of  ageless  love  the  ultimate  test, 
Mafalda  of  the  warm  brown  breast. 

MAFALDA 

I  cannot  speak,  I.     Let  me  sing 

An  old,  plain  ditty;    a  weary  thing 

That  children  shrill  when  they  would  dance, 

Not  knowing  its  significance. 

Pray  you,  have  you  seen  my  love 
On  the  road  you  came? 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Each  one  knows  him  as  he  goes 
By  the  badge  of  shame. 

So  at  last  I  hold  him  fast 

Past  the  'Judgment-morning, 
Heart  may  break,  but  love  will  reck 

Of  wrong  no  more  than  scorning. 

IPPOLTYA 

That  way  God  loves  us.     But  for  me 

I'd  wish  my  lover  a  spreading  tree 

Whence  to  break  buds  for  coronals 

Wreathing,  upon  high  festivals, 

My  hair's  dense  darkness:  he,  the  while, 

At  my  child's  play  should  softly  smile. 

DUCHESS 

The  wheel  swings  round :   twice  in  the  hour 

Has  love,  heighho,  been  but  a  flower ! 

Maids,  shall  we  sing,  or  with  slim  grace 

Trip  on  this  chequered  grassy  space, 

In  sphery  turns  weaving  a  measure  ? 

Laodomia  and  Orsola  resume  their  lutes,  Ananna,  Mafalda 
and  Fiammetta  stand  ready  to  wheel  in  the  dance,  when  the 
Duke  approaches. 

Excellence,  welcome.     Is  it  your  pleasure 
Music  to  hear,  or  converse  share  ? 

DUKE 

Let  me  but  watch  upon  your  hair 

The  flecks  of  sunlight  fallen  through  green 

Wavering  as  shifts  the  beechen  screen ; 

Forget,  all  you,  that  I  am  by. 

[8] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

DUCHESS 

So  be  it.     Isotta,  music  try. 

ISOTTA 

Now  comes  the  May  time,  the  wild  hawks'  play-time, 
With  long  blithe  daytime  and  warm  night  showers , 

In  tangled  cover  each  feathered  lover 

Sings  one  song  over  the  white  thorn  flowers. 

Yield,  maiden  quire,  to  love's  empire, 
Love's  scorn  is  dire,  ruthless  his  quarrel. 

Syrinx  a  reed  is,  Adon  to  bleed  is, 

All  Daphne's  speed  is  to  fruitless  laurel. 

DUCHESS 

Is  there  no  word  to-day  but  love  ? 

DUKE 

What  better  could  we  reason  of? 

DUCHESS 

Have  you  known  his  radiant  face 
Or  tasted  the  dew  of  his  grace  ? 
Tell  me  what  signs  declare  him, 
Who  his  father,  who  bare  him, 
What  his  service,  and  all 
Of  his  solemn  ritual. 
The  high  doctrine  unfold ! 

DUKE 

It  is  a  doctrine  old: 

It  is  a  rule  austere. 

Princess,  have  you  no  fear  ? 

These  immortal  mysteries 

Are  not  for  laughter-litten  eyes. 

[9] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

DUCHESS 

We  are  grave  disciples,  who  would  win 

To  adept's  place. 

IPPOLYTA 

Ere  he  begin, 

Maidens,  close  in  at  either  hand 
Like  curving  wings. 

DUCHESS 

There,  Duke,  you  stand. 

DUKE 

How  can  man's  words,  that  change  and  shiver 
Like  stormy  sunshine  on  a  river, 
That  splendour-winged  spirit  compel, 
Inaccessible,  unalterable, 
Express  the  unravished  constancy 
Set  above  time  and  change  on  high  ? 
Love,  of  man's  heritage,  only  is  free 
From  the  stress  of  mutability. 

DUCHESS 

Yet  a  hard  saying,  Master,  this. 

Are  all  those  passions  named  amiss 

That  like  the  moon  wax  and  grow  lean, 

Or,  moon-like,  have  their  image  seen 

In  dimpled  spring  and  lucent  pool  ? 

Girls,  are  these  heretics  of  love's  school  ? 

ARIANNA 

Rather,  the  right  initiate, 

No  traitor  to  love's  high  estate, 

[10] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Loves  not  the  incomparable  She, 
But  beauty,  wheresoe'er  that  be. 
Some  are  love's  lovers,  and  can  that  lie 
In  a  white  hand,  or  a  quick  eye  ? 

DUCHESS 

Let  me  rehearse  a  little.     So 

Not  shadowing  hair  nor  temples'  snow 

Love  men,  but  Beauty,  which  abides 

In  us  some  fleeting  halcyon-tides : 

Not  ardour,  honour,  loyalty, 

Though  for  a  scruple  a  maid  should  die, 

Foster,  but  love,  who  nests  perhaps 

A  season  in  these  silken  laps, 

Till  the  poor  perishing  flesh  is  dust  ? 

Amen,  if  so  believe  I  must ! 

A  moment  stay.     Lend  me  your  hands, 

Sweethearts :  these  weary  plaits  and  strands 

Intricate  coiled  of  heavy  hair, 

Make  my  head  ache.     Child,  loose  that;  there.  . 

DUKE 

O  jewel  of  pearl  and  sand-searched  gold 

Wrought  by  dead  craftsmen  for  some  old 

Dead  princess,  eastward  of  the  sun, 

And  deftly  cusped  and  wrought  upon 

With  stones  of  all  the  bland  bow's  colours  seven ! 

O  virgin  sunflower  in  the  top  of  heaven, 

With  seven  star-flowers  ringed !     O  harmony 

That  complicates  all  webs  of  melody ! 

Lift  up  your  hearts.     Let  faith  approve: 

Behold  the  way  of  perfect  love ! 

Love,  first  begotten  of  all  created  things, 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Above  the  void  hung  on  strong  brooding  wings 

Till  light  sprang  up,  and  straight  from  love  and  light 

Were  earth  and  heaven  born,  and  day  and  night; 

Green  cranny-moss,  and  thousand-year-old  tree, 

And  all  the  swift  folk  of  the  air  and  sea; 

The  furry  tribes;  and  man,  that  sole  knows  why 

He  has  been  born  —  which  is  to  love,  and  die. 

The  starry  flock  their  orbits  implicate 

Hold,  amid  which  the  great  sun  moves  in  state; 

By  sweet  compulsion,  each  constraining  each, 

""*  They  weave  across  the  skies  their  soundless  speech. 

*  The  sad  white  moon  wanders  the  earth  around, 
While  as  she  goes  blue  ocean  breaks  his  bound 
To  follow,  and  through  all  the  secular  quest 
To  her  pulse  heaves  his  vast  tumultuous  breast. 
Fiammetta,  Isotta,  Laodomia, 
Mafalda,  Arianna,  Orsola, 
Ippolyta,  and  —  great  and  gracious  one, 
Lioness  coloured  of  the  tropic  sun, 
Superb  —  Lionella,  give  me  a  graver  mind, 
For  this  before  was  but  of  love  of  kind. 
Unfit  your  ears  to  hear,  my  lips  to  tell, 
Of  the  light  loves  in  marish-pools  that  dwell, 
Or  what  gross  sorts  frequent  the  trough  and  mire. 
Upward  tends  love,  part  of  the  primal  fire 
Which  streams,  incorporal  flame,  in  the  noble  heart, 
Being  all  in  heaven  and  all  in  every  part. 
Loveliness,  equal  in  her  heavenly  birth, 
Do  ye  not  encounter  errant  over  earth 
Having  donned  mortal  vesture  ?     What,  do  your  eyes 
Repeat  their  green  light  from  terrestrial  skies  ? 
Then,  love  goes  seeking  his  immortal  twin, 
And  the  unimagined  form  he  sees  her  in 

[12] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Reverent  he  worships  straight;  yet  if  thereafter 

What  seemed  all  wisdom  prove  but  theme  for  laughter, 

What  seemed  clear  fire  prove  but  painted  glass, 

Nought  rests  for  love  but  wearily  to  pass 

Upon  his  timeless  pilgrimage,  and  pray 

That  beauty  unearthly  yet  may  cross  his  way; 

For,  one  at  first  with  beauty,  he  holds  the  quest 

Till  the  two  souls,  made  one  soul,  shall  find  rest. 

So  much  for  love  imperfect,  how  it  gains 

Perfection.     Now  of  perfect  love  remains. 

You  have  grieved  for  flesh,  that  pales  and  falls  to  dust, 

But  what  is  patience,  lady,  what  is  trust, 

But  the  flesh  worshipping  a  bodiless  power 

In  faith  that  at  the  fixed,  the  ultimate  hour, 

He  entering  fills  the  shrine  with  so  great  glory 

That  all  pain  past  is  a  forgotten  story, 

Yea,  doth  augment  delight,  as  strings  harsh-sounding 

Mix  into  music  sweetness  more  abounding  ? 

Some  say,  a  bitter  lordship  is  this  same, 

Galling  his  servants  wan-hope,  worldly  shame, 

And  drowsy  grief,  and  lidless  vain  desire, 

And  blind  death:  —  these  adore  a  devil,  a  fire 

Earth-kindled,  gluttonous  as  the  ravening  wave. 

No  man  is  free  that  owns  a  single  slave, 

The  emperor  said,  nor  rich,  but  who  hath  nought, 

Nor  he  at  peace  who  can  be  pricked  in  aught. 

And  therefore  perfect  love  must  ever  be 

A  beggar  gaunt,  living  on  charity, 

Craving  no  thing  of  right  but  all  of  pity. 

A  beggar?     No;  throned,  from  his  royal  city 

He  reigns  to  grant,  and  all  the  spoils  of  sense 

He  lavishes  of  his  magnificence: 

And  all  the  spirit's  splendours  he  will  shower 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Idly  as  one  of  you  ruffles  a  flower: 
To  crown  with  goods  is  his :  taking,  be  sure, 
His  magnanimity  could  not  endure. 
Mark,  he  does  more.     To  the  Beloved  he 
Does  of  free  will,  true  service,  and  is  free. 
Even  as  he  laid  delight  and  all  sweet  things 
At  the  dear  feet,  so  now  desire  he  brings, 
And  last,  the  will :  and  having  put  that  off 
Goes  healed  and  free.     Say,  is  not  love  enough  ? 

DUCHESS 

Highness,  you  have  praised  royally, 
Gracing  your  subject.     Say  not  ye 
So,  maidens  seven  ? 

THE  SEVEN 

We  had  not  thought 
Dear  lord,  to  be  so  nobly  taught. 

DUCHESS 

What,  you  change  colour,  you  are  not  well  ? 

DUKE 

Madonna,  the  ancient  miracle; 

The  priest  who  speaks  the  consecration 

Must  shrink  before  the  revelation 

Of  very  God  between  his  hands : 

Let  him  confirm  who  understands. 

My  soul  is  shaken  —  permit  I  go. 

DUCHESS 

Cousin,  and  would  you  leave  us  so, 
With  many  fine  points  yet  unraised 
And  many  an  attribute  unpraised  ? 

[14] 


THE  WAY  OF  _  PERFECT  LOVE 

DUKE 

Pity !     Ah,  cousin,  I  love  in  vain, 
And  love  at  ease  is  a  dear  pain, 
But  love  at  uttermost,  agony. 
Suffering  its  swift  ascendency, 
I  pray,  dear  ladies,  for  your  talk 
All  delicate  pleasures  as  you  walk. 

He  goes  slowly  down  the  cypress  alley. 

DUCHESS 

Fiammetta,  take  the  lute  and  sing. 

FlAMMETTA 

Madonna,  what  ? 

DUCHESS 

Some  quiet  thing. 

FIAMMETTA 

Dear  to  the  sailor-kings, 

Bronze-bearded,  steadfast-hearted, 
Oars'  dash,  when  galley  swings 

Black  through  the  grey  waves  parted. 
But  they  said :  ''Make  the  cove 
Where  breathes  a  moonless  grove, 

And  larks  hang  glad 
O'er  pebbly  pools  and  sweet; 
He  sickens  with  the  heat, 
Our  little  lad." 

THE  SEVEN 

So  they  call,  the  gold-browed  kings, 
Hylas,  Hylas,  Hylas!  clear; 

[15] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

And  Alcides'  great  voice  rings,  — 
For  be  loved  the  brown  child  dear. 

FlAMMETTA 

He  left  the  blue  profound 

To  follow  winding  valleys ; 
He  lost  the  surf  s  faint  sound 

In  as  pen-shivering  alleys. 
Beside  the  freshes  cold 
He  found  white  fingers  hold 

His  brown  hand  hot; 
He  heard  an  elfin  song; 
The  dark  kings  waited  long 
But  he  came  not. 

THE  SEVEN 

Yet  they  call  him  from  the  shore, 
Hylas,  Hylas,  Hylas!  thrice; 
But  Alcides  sails  no  more, 

Remembering  the  drowned  child's  eyes. 

DUCHESS 

I  thank  you,  sweet.     The  sun  is  low, 

Between  the  orchard  trees  a-row 

The  warm  gold  washes.     Listen,  a  swell 

Of  hushed  notes,  very  tuneable  ! 

Look  out,  Mafalda,  through  the  trees. 

LAODOMIA 

Stay,  'twixt  the  rows  of  cypresses 

One  comes,  or  by  the  yew-tree  arch. 

DUCHESS 

The  voice  is  like  the  rain  in  March. 

[16] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

ORSOLA 

He  loiters  by  the  ragged  fir. 

MAFALDA 

Madonna,  'tis  a  lute-player 

With  a  strange-fashioned  silver  lute. 

IPPOLYTA 

And  hark,  the  nightingales  are  mute ! 

FlAMMETTA 

A  dark  rose  opens  its  moth-kissed  leaves. 

PIEPOWDER 

Something  calls  and  whispers,  along  the  city  street, 
Through  shrill  cries  of  children  and  soft  stir  of  feet, 
And  makes  my  blood  to  quicken  and  makes  my  flesh  to  pine. 
The  mountains  are  calling;  the  winds  wake  the  pine. 

ARIANNA 

Madonna  Lionella  walks  here  eves, 

Wayfarer. 

LAODOMIA 

If  you  are  astray 
Let  us  two  set  you  in  your  way. 

PIEPOWDER 

The  turf  its  dewy  cool  preferred, 
And  dusty  feet  unwitting  erred. 
Yet,  since  you  pardon  their  offence, 
Will  you  not,  gracious  handmaidens, 
Or  will  her  Highness,  leave  bestow, 
To  end  singing  before  I  go  ? 

[17] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

FlAMMETTA 

Madonna  —  if  it  be  not  too  long ! 

DUCHESS 

Fetch  him,  Fiammetta.     Friend,  your  song. 

PIEPOW'DER 

Past  the  quivering  poplars  that  tell  of  water  near 

The  long  road  is  sleeping,  the  white  road  is  clear. 

Yet  scent  and  touch  can  summon,  afar  from  brook  and  tree, 

The  deep  boom  of  surges,  the  grey  waste  of  sea. 

Sweet  to  dream  and  linger,  in  windless  orchard  close, 
On  bright  brows  of  ladies  to  garland  the  rose, 
But  all  the  time  are  glowing,  beyond  this  little  world, 
The  still  light  of  planets  and  the  star-swarms  whirled. 

DUCHESS 

What  are  you,  and  what  make  you  here  so  late 
That  gillyflowers  and  stocks  shake  out  their  myrrh, 
Down  all  our  pleasaunce  alleys  hushed  and  strait, 
Towards  a  dead  sun,  O  starry  voyager  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

You  are  pleased  to  mock  me,  Excellence, 

Yet  know  me,  by  the  evidence 

Of  dusty  feet  and  tireless  heart, 

Free  of  the  desert  as  the  mart. 

I  have  marched  in  half  a  score  of  wars 

In  this  flesh,  or  among  the  stars 

Before  I  put  on  humdrum  clay. 


IPPOLYTA 
You  are  sure  ? 


[18] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

Nay,  doth  not  Plato  say  ? 
Sadly,  madonna,  I  am  a  poor 
Strolling  player  of  grave  allure : 
Your  steward  gave  me  liberty 
That  I  and  my  quaint  company 
Might  in  the  city  square  rehearse 
An  excellent  comedy  in  verse, 
This  evening,  after  compline  said. 
Leaving  the  palace,  I  was  led 
Of  my  kind  genius  to  this  spot. 
Your  beauteous  Grace  can  blame  it  not  ? 

LAODOMIA 

You  are  the  mocker,  as  I  think. 

PlEPOWDER 

Good  sweet,  should  wisdom  never  wink  ? 

ORSOLA 

Your  fingers  on  the  instrument 

Followed  well  where  the  sweet  voice  went. 

PlEPOWDER 

God  gave  to  a  hand  dexterity, 
And  unto  feet  inveteracy, 
And  to  a  spirit  the  wind's  will, 
To  blow  all  ways  but  ne'er  be  still. 

DUCHESS 

Touch  at  your  pleasure  the  light  string. 

PlEPOWDER 

Then  hear  more  praise  of  wandering. 
[19] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

A  man  called  Dante,  I  have  beard, 

Once  ranged  the  country-side, 
He  knew  to  dawn's  mysterious  word 

What  drowsy  birds  replied ; 

He  knew  the  deep  sea  s  voice,  its  gleams 

And  tremulous  lights  afar. 
When  he  lay  down  at  night,  in  dreams 

He  tramped  from  star  to  star. 

ARIANNA 

Such  shadowy  grace  I  have  not  seen; 
Yet  marred  a  little,  and  worn  keen, 
The  swart,  boy's  face. 

IPPOLYTA 

The  dense  short  hair 
Blown  back  by  the  damp  evening  air 
Is  struck  with  grey. 

ORSOLA 

To  a  hawk  belong 
Those  lean,  brown,  restless  talons  strong. 

MAFALDA 

A  dangerous  creature,  at  the  last, 

As  are  the  lions  you  keep  fast 

Down  in  the  courtyard  cage :  they  pace 

With  that  same  easy  shambling  grace. 

DUCHESS 

His  eyes  are  like  a  windy  sky. 

[20] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

LAODOMIA 

And  low  he  speaks,  and  subtilely, 

Though  he  may  say  a  forthright  thing. 

ISOTTA 

His  chance  look  leaves  me  shivering. 
May  he  not  go  ?     The  light  is  gone. 

FlAMMETTA 

Fie,  sweet !     Madonna,  I  think  him  one 
Whom  human  passion  cannot  hold; 
For  he  has  tasted  love  more  old  — 
The  strong  embrace  of.the  warm  earth. 

ARIANNA 

His  soul  was  free  before  time's  birth, 
And  dimly  that  lost  freedom  yet 
Seeks,  for  it  cannot  quite  forget. 

DUCHESS 

Dreamers,  strange  talk  !     The  gathering  dark 

Creeps  in  our  brains;   the  wide  hushed  park 

Lies  glimmering;  whitely,  a  bough  beneath, 

Shine  lilies;   all  things  hold  their  breath, 

Yet  have  they  something  to  declare. 

Perhaps  the  silent  lute-player 

Can  tell  what  lies  at  evening's  heart. 

While  I  demand,  walk  you  apart. 

THE  SEVEN 

Love  is  a  tyrannous  lord  — 
How  shall  we  worship  accord? 
Welladayl 

[21] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

They  go  away  where  the  Duke  went. 

DUCHESS 

Is  it  so  good,  your  wandering  way  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Its  excellency  how  shall  I  say  ? 

Great  sorrows  and  deep  joys  are  rife; 

One  in  the  brimming  cup  of  life 

Passion  with  anguish  interfuses: 

All  the  wide  various  world  one  uses. 

In  lonely  farms  where  shepherds  keep 

To  lie  a  night  among  the  sheep; 

On  the  warm-smelling  earth,  next  tide; 

A  third,  the  kindly  hearth  beside 

In  little  towns,  or,  four-deep,  share 

The  church  steps  on  the  city  square;  — 

After  the  drum  in  tattered  smock, 

Bare-head,  bare-foot,  when  children  flock, 

As  their  frail  hands  our  finery  turn, 

And  treble  voices  hum,  to  learn 

Their  fleeting  griefs;  among  themselves 

What  women  talk  by  tens  and  twelves 

Above  the  nuzzling  babe;  to  know 

What  tanned  men  brood  on,  all  the  slow 

Hot  noontide  'neath  the  berried  hedge; 

Yea,  what  the  wren  says  in  the  sedge, 

What  the  hot  thunder  calls  aloud 

When  rose-red  lightning  decks  the  cloud: 

This  is  the  wisdom,  this  the  part 

Of  dusty-foot  and  restless-heart. 

DUCHESS 

Are  you  not  tired  ? 

[22] 


THE   WAY   OF    PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

How  should  he  be 
Whose  bed  is  under  every  tree  ? 

DUCHESS 
Nor  lone  ? 

PlEPOWDER 

He  never  alien 
Who,  world-unwearied,  returns  to  men. 

DUCHESS 

Nor  loth  to  fare  companionless? 

PlEPOWDER 

The  stars  can  counsel  and  can  bless. 

DUCHESS 

Ah,  might  I  toil  and  grieve  and  know, 
Facing  the  noon  sun  and  the  snow, 
And  search  out  God's  imaginings, 
And  live  the  life  of  humble  things, 
Ah,  might  I  follow  the  wind's  will ! 

PlEPOWDER 

Madonna,  just  across  the  hill, 

Where  the  last  amber  yet  lies  dark, 

Waits  the  wide  world,  and  calls  you  —  hark  ! 

The  sun  shall  be  your  comrade  staunch, 

For  your  white  feet  the  moon  shall  blanch 

The  powdery  road,  and  winds  shall  tell 

A  song  in  speech  unutterable. 

If  your  heart  speed  you  straight  and  right 

[23] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Come  out  with  me  into  the  night 
And  learn  what  life  may  live  the  free, 
And  what,  madonna,  love  may  be. 

DUCHESS 

The  mounting  twilight  lies  so  thick 

My  eyes  are  dizzy,  my  bosom  is  quick. 

Yet  rumour  of  love's  name  rings  round  me  — 

PIEPOWDER 

Is  love  not  of  the  company  ? 

I  heard  his  wings  winnowing  the  air, 

I  felt  the  touch  of  floating  hair  — 

Ah,  come  with  me  the  way  of  love ! 

DUCHESS 

You  draw  me,  as  adamant  should  move. 

PIEPOWDER 

Breath  of  the  night,  on  the  shimmering  tresses 
That  shroud  the  Beloved,  shake  skyey  caresses ; 

For  the  fountain  once  sealed  is  a  brook  to  meander ; 
For  the  ivory  tower  has  unloosed  its  strong  gateway 
That  love,  the  late  comer,  may  take  his  throne  straightway , 

For  the  garden  enclosed  is  a  pleasaunce  to  wander 
Where  August  shall  lead  us  afield  with  her  far  light; 
And  through  the  long  season  of  snowfall  and  starlight 

One  shall  he  in  my  breast  like  a  ball  of  pomander. 

DUCHESS 

Your  voice  like  the  autumnal  winds 
Troubled  my  soul,  but  your  face  blinds 
Eyes  which  till  now  had  but  the  sun 
To  spend  their  steadfast  gazing  on. 

[24] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

O  heavy-headed  gold  sunflower, 
Perfect  exponent  of  love's  power, 
Light  risen  on  me,  I  should  be  loth 
Us  two  to  wrong  with  slavish  oath. 
Shall  I  not  see  you  kind  and  true 
So  long  as  I  am  dear  to  you  ? 
And  you,  too,  find  my  loyalty 
Of  like  date  with  my  constancy  ? 
And  may  my  death's  day  be  that  date! 
How  like  you  honest  wooing,  mate  ? 

DUCHESS 

Sir,  I  am  yours,  and  to  your  say 

Subject,  but  would  my  master  pray, 

Since  even  an  hour  can  work  such  change 

That  the  old,  sloughed-off  life  looks  strange, 

Unless  he,  standing  here  to-night, 

With  heart  and  spirit  love  me  quite 

And  altogether  and  utterly, 

That  straightway  he  depart  from  me, 

Yea,  leave  his  handmaid  here  behind. 

PlEPOWDER 

O  comrade  after  my  own  mind, 
The  noble  blood  runs  quick  and  bright ! 
Stoop  downward  from  your  towering  height 
Proud  spirit  poised  beyond  my  reach, 
Whom  I  love  past  the  use  of  speech, 
Even  as  the  tossed  sea  loves  the  moon, 
As  the  struck  lute  the  lilting  tune, 
As  the  for-wearied  traveller,  rest. 

[25] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

And  this  high  heart,  that  shakes  your  breast 
So  stormily,  is  love's  celebrant. 

DUCHESS 

Look  you,  I  am  quite  ignorant 

Of  love.     The  sanguine  face  on  me 

Lightened  not,  I  was  sick  to  see. 

Men  said  he  walked  where  my  feet  strayed; 

His  splendours  ofttimes  have  affrayed 

My  tender  foolish  handmaidens, 

And  his  voice  tuned  to  eloquence 

Of  high  converse  even  at  this  noon 

A  noble  spirit;  then  see,  how  soon 

The  long-desired  rises  in  view, 

And  refluent  love  is  mine,  in  you. 

PIEPOWDER 

Be  to  him,  princess,  rather  than  me, 

Made  over  in  perpetuity. 

Gravely,  then,  seal  the  comradeship, 

Gentle  fellow,  give  pomp  the  slip, 

And  come,  through  grasses  drenched  and  chill, 

By  a  few  stars,  across  the  hill. 

VOICES  OF  THE  SEVEN  GENTLEWOMEN 

Welladay  ! 

How  shall  our  feet  know  his  way  ? 

He  lays  on  the  marble  seat  from  which  the  Duchess  has  risen, 
her  embroidered  mantle,  neatly  folded,  and  on  it  the  changing 
jewel  from  her  brow  and  her  wrought  girdle  set  around  with  seven 
precious  stones.  They  go  through  the  park  toward  the  wall  of 
the  orchard. 

[26] 


ACT  II 

The  city  square.  Down  a  street  running  into  it  the  Duchess 
comes  to  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  fountain;  her  hair  is  cropped  and 
curly,  in  the  tight  bodice  and  short  skirt  of  a  baladine  she  looks 
very  slight  and  small.  Pie  powder  comes  in  search  of  her. 

DUCHESS 

Slant-shuttered  windows  blink  no  eye, 

Long  street  and  moon-illumined  sky 

Are  bright  and  empty;  the  bleared  moon 

Will  peer  above  the  house-fronts  soon; 

Already  'tis  a  sickly  day. 

'Twixt  wall  and  wall  runs  pavement  grey: 

The  fountain,  splashing  in  the  still, 

Makes  my  heart  beat  like  something  ill. 

What  passed  ?     A  crouching  cat,  the  clear 

Deserted  middle  square  by  fear 

Debarred,  sent  skulking  three  sides  round. 

Hark !     Those  are  loitering  steps.     The  sound 

Rings  on  the  century-trodden  stone, 

And  how  the  man  looks  small  and  lone ! 

Dear  God,  is  it  you  ? 

PIE  POWDER 

In  what  a  fright ! 
You  must  not  run  away  at  night, 
Child.     You  have  to  sup  and  sleep.     You  know 
To-morrow  again  westward  we  go. 

[27] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

DUCHESS 

My  friend,  suppose  I  stay  behind  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Poor  tired  small  creature,  do  you  find 

The  highway  rougher  than  once  was 

Turf  crocus-fretted  ?     Courage !     The  ass 

Shall  carry  you  the  livelong  day. 

Vine-wreathed  and  elm-girt,  the  swift  way 

Runs  hillward,  till  blue  crests  begin 

To  lift  as  twilight  closes  in, 

And  the  moonrise  will  bring  them  near. 

DUCHESS 

O,  I  am  sick  of  road  and  gear ! 
What  is  a  moon  when  the  feet  ache, 
Or  hills  to  hinder  a  heart  to  break  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Grave,  this.     What  ails  my  gallant  heart  ? 

DUCHESS 

So  ill  I  fit  the  player's  part; 

Unapt  for  wrangling  and  for  spite. 

I  danced,  you  know,  sadly  to-night, 

And  the  girls  laughed,  well  pleased.     They  think, 

Rightly,  I  scarce  earn  meat  and  drink. 

PIEPOWDER 

Say,  from  your  beauties'  light  they  shrink. 

DUCHESS 

And  when  at  evening,  over-spent, 
We  make  an  inn,  the  rest,  intent 
On  common  good,  who  dress  and  lay 

[28] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

The  common  meal,  put  me  away. 
I  spoil  good  food ;  —  I  may  not  sit, 
Even,  to  twirl  the  tardy  spit. 

PlEPOWDER 

True;  soft  hands  these,  for  toil  unfit. 

DUCHESS 

For  clumsiest  groom's  work  all  unable, 
Strength  lacking  even  to  clean  the  stable 
Or  fetch  foul  water  and  musty  hay 
To  the  rough  ass,  patient  and  grey. 

PlEPOWDER 

That  not  till  I  am  fast  in  clay. 

DUCHESS 

Scorn  is  the  web,  and  pain  the  woof. 

I  am  not  sullen  at  reproof, 

But  I  grow  dull  as  I  do  ill, 

And  my  part  of  Parthenophil 

Yourself  have  blamed,  though  when  rehearsed 

It  was  a  pretty  thing  at  first. 

PlEPOWDER 

Well-grown  your  brood,  though  secret  nursed. 
Yet  have  you  other  griefs  to  show  ? 

DUCHESS 

My  very  dear,  I  can  but  go. 

PlEPOWDER 

Why,  troubled-heart,  I  am  sick  and  sorry 
[29] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

That  I  marked  not,  to  mend,  this  worry. 
Kissing  your  hot  face  weary,  I  swear 
It  has  done  with  sawdust  and  with  glare. 
For  we  will  turn  our  backs  on  men 
And  learn  the  hill-wind's  word  again, 
And  smell  the  curling  blue  wood-smoke 
Of  dales,  and  shelter  with  grim  folk 
Where  nets  dry  brown  along  the  beach. 
In  cities  loud  with  outland  speech, 
Close-barred  within  whose  roadstead  lie 
Tall  masts  against  a  cold  green  sky, 
Shall  we  not  lodge,  and  taste  in  these 
Odours  and  rumours  of  far  seas 
Filling  the  narrow  streets  ?     And,  blown 
Into  your  lap  from  every  zone, 
Find  jade  and  topaz;  cups  of  price, 
Rock-crystal,  brimmed  with  scent  and  spice; 
Ambers  and  ivories;  broidery,  wrought 
Seed-pearl  on  gossamer;  or  new-caught 
Pale  Indian  apes  with  pink  small  paws, 
Piteous  and  docile;  blue  macaws 
Prisoned  in  gilded  wires;  or,  prime 
And  spoil  of  unguessed  sunset-clime, 
Gay  feather-woven  cloaks,  your  sleep 
To  cover,  and  —  why,  child  ! 

DUCHESS 

I  weep 

Being,  as  just  now  you  rightly  said, 
Aweary  and  all  uncomforted. 

PlEPOWDER 

Comfort  can  you  lack  whilst  I  love  ? 
[30] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

DUCHESS 

It  is  just  that  my  grief  is  of. 

PIEPOWDER 

Take  then  my  hoarded  offering! 
Though  my  heart  be  a  tameless  thing, 
And  in  the  long  glad  years  may  range, 
Yet  something  is  in  me  will  not  change 
For  you,  I  think,  until  I  die. 

DUCHESS 

Not  yet  assuaged  the  wailful  cry 

At  heart. 

PIEPOWDER 

Then  you  grow  different. 

DUCHESS 

I  could  not,  else,  know  all  love  meant, 
Never !  —  for  hourly  knowledge  grows : 
Thence,  love;  my  breast  cannot  enclose 
All,  yet  all  speech  alike  is  vain. 

PIEPOWDER 

Alas,  beloved,  the  world-old  pain ! 
For  the  wind's  will  is  strong  desire's, 
Boundless  and  tameless,  yet  flesh  tires, 
And  sometimes,  in  the  stress,  turns  just 
A  piteous  handful  of  blown  dust. 
And  but  the  soul  austerely  bent 
To  find,  or  do  without,  content, 
Living  in  ice  or  else  in  fire, 
Renouncement,  or  unquenched  desire, 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Moves  unafraid,  looking  not  back, 
And  free,  along  the  viewless  track. 

DUCHESS 

I  cannot  follow  these  high  things. 
I  only  know  a  worm  that  stings 
Evermore,  evermore  my  heart. 

PIEPOWDER 

Sweet  silent  comrade,  every  smart 

Is  eased  in  telling. 

DUCHESS 

I  do  not  know. 
Quick,  do  you  love  me  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

I  love  you  so 

That  your  touch  starts  and  stays  my  blood, 
Your  look  can  rule  song's  tide  in  flood; 
That  absence  turns  rich  summer's  height 
Into  a  blanched  Saint  Lucy's  night; 
That  the  thronged  world  of  sound  and  seeing 
Is  but  your  flesh,  your  breath,  your  being. 

DUCHESS 

Yet  in  all  time  I  shall  not  tell 

The  rhythm  of  your  faint  pulse's  swell; 

Nor  learn  the  thoughts,  secure  and  plain 

To  read,  that  scurry  through  your  brain. 

Passions  that  throb  and  lapse  in  me 

Your  vision  intent  shall  never  see, 

Nor  your  heart  taste  my  sorrow's  sharp 

Savour;  were  my  deep  soul  a  harp 

[32] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Under  your  fingers  quivering, 

You  could  not  feel  nor  hear  one  string. 

O,  I  am  cold  and  very  lonely. 

PlEPOWDER 

I  think  great  spirits,  madonna,  only, 

Have  known  your  pain,  and  known  no  cure. 

Mortality  can  but  endure. 

Yet  though  man  have  no  anodyne 

A  counter-passion  I  divine : 

If  I  can  give  not  to  my  brother 

My  life,  nor  life  take  of  another  — 

By  virtue  of  that,  unalterably 

While  the  soul  burn  the  soul  is  free. 

DUCHESS 

Still  I  am  lonely,  and  still  cold. 

See,  dawn  has  come  and  made  us  old, 

Reddened  that  lamp,  and  turned  the  square 

Into  a  horrible  ghosts'  lair. 

I  can  have  courage,  and  go  on 

My  manifest  way,  and  go  alone, 

While  I  could  bear  no  longer,  now, 

To  watch  your  sleep,  not  knowing  how 

Wanders  the  soul  I  cannot  follow 

Through  that  dream-world  where  all  is  hollow, 

A  strong  straight  sword-cut  should  heal  well, 

And  you  have  a  medicinal  spell, 

And  I  can  nurse  my  proper  wound : 

So  where  the  suns  go,  you  are  bound. 

PlEPOWDER 

How  can  I  go  ?     My  limbs  are  weak 
With  new  grief.     Though  I  cannot  speak, 

[33] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

With  face  averse  must  I  get  hence, 
Steadfast  in  hard  obedience  ? 
If  the  god  utters  who  shall  gainsay  ? 
The  wisdom  on  your  lips  to-day, 
The  courage  of  your  princely  soul, 
Carry  you  on  safe  to  the  goal.   .  .  . 
Child,  child,  I  cannot  let  you  go !  ... 
Princess,  your  dog  you  would  not  so 
Turn  off,  when  he  had  shared  your  meat 
And  slept  so  long  time  at  your  feet ! 
Across  your  door  to  lie  like  him  — 

DUCHESS 

My  strength  sickens,  the  light  grows  dim, 
There  is  no  nice  farewell  to  take. 
Nay,  even  for  human  kindness'  sake, 
For  love's  own,  touch  me  never  again, 
Lest  I  turn  weak  with  the  dear  pain 
As  of  old  time,  and  suck  sweet  death 
Into  faint  veins  with  every  breath. 

PIEPOWDER 

Nay,  since  we  love,  silence  is  best. 

Piepowder  goes  back  down  the  street. 

DUCHESS 

I  am  so  weary  I  can  rest. 

Yet  ere  I  sleep,  what  prayer  to  say  ? 

Because  I  sent  my  love  away 

For  my  love's  sake,  God,  from  my  heart, 

Lest  it  should  learn  the  servile  art 

To  bind  a  tameless  creature,  then, 

Make  me,  dear  God,  forget !     Amen. 

[34] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

She   sleeps.     The   square  fills   up  with   people    and  the  day 
goes  on. 

THE  MERCHANTS'  CALL 

Come  buy,  white  maids,  come  buy,  come  buy! 
Laces,  fans,  and  broidered  gloves, 

Ribbons  for  true-lovers'  knots, 
Cushions  stuffed  with  down  of  doves, 
Roses'  balm  distilled,  and  pots 
Brimmed  with  orient  philtery. 
Come  buy,  come  buy! 

Come  buy,  tall  lads,  come  buy,  come  buy! 
Damasked  stuffs  for  a  pretty  neighbour, 

Lawn  as  light  as  April  air, 
And  the  spinning  worm's  bright  labour; 
Corals  to  bind  up  her  hair, 
Owches  to  enchant  her  eye. 
Come  buy,  come  buy  ! 

THE  COMEDIANS  PASS 

Here  to-day 

And  gone  to-morrow; 
While  we  stay 

A  fig  for  sorrow  ! 
Wine  is  bright, 

A  grey  eye  brighter ; 
Largess  sweet, 

A  white  girl  sweeter ; 
Whom  we  meet 

We  clip  and  greet  her: 
Heart  is  light 

When  purse  is  lighter, 

[35] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

We  who  borrow 

Never  pay, 
For  to-morrow 

Is  not  to-day. 

FROM  THE  CHURCH  A  LITANY 
For  long  years  of  aspiration, 
For  high  strength  of  concentration, 
For  calm  age's  contemplation, 
Non  nobis,  Domine. 

For  the  end  of  peaceful  days, 
For  the  coffin  crowned  with  bays, 
For  the  after-comers'  praise, 
Non  nobis,  Domine. 

Saviour,  by  thy  dear-bought  power, 
Under  which  fallen  spirits  cower, 
Keep  us  at  the  mortal  hour, 

Non  nobis,  Domine  — 

From  the  hungry  worm's  desires, 
From  the  lust  that  never  tires, 
From  the  sharp,  mysterious  fires  — 
Non  nobis,  Domine ! 

The  ducal  party  passes,  from  hunting.     Three  spinners, 
the  fountain  steps,  gossip  as  the  spindle  twirls. 

MlCAELA 

The  hunt  comes  empty-handed  home. 

EVA 

Yet  the  good  horses  sweated. 

[36] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

MlCAELA 

Some 

Did  not  uncouple,  I  think,  at  all; 
Trimly  step  out  the  huntsmen  tall. 
That  foremost  brace  of  greyhounds  lean 
In  the  scarlet  leash  —  their  paws  are  clean. 

EVA 

The  hawks  sit,  sulky,  on  their  frame, 
The  Duke  - 

MADDALENA 

As  sulky,  twice  as  tame; 
Yet  the  old  bright  splendour  flashes  still. 

MICAELA 

Never  the  same  since  she  fell  ill, 

Our  lady,  sweet  Lionella. 

MADDALENA 

Tutt  — ! 

EVA 

She  is  his  uncle's  child. 

MADDALENA 

Aye,  but  — ! 

I  mind  the  christening  —  dukes  pell-mell ! 
Dear  Christ,  he  loved  her  mother  well ! 

EVA 

As  our  duke  loves  this  sunnier  head. 

[37] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

MlCAELA 

Abundant  time  they  have  had  to  wed, 
Being  affianced  how  long  since 
The  lifetime  of  our  late  brave  prince  ! 
Some  lack  of  love  must  somewhere  be. 

MADDALENA 

Of  this  remediless  malady 

She  sickened  a  great  while  ago. 

EVA 

Nay,  not  so  long,  neighbour,  not  so ! 

MADDALENA 

Will  you  the  whole  tale  I  relate  ? 
I  have  it  from  inside  the  great 
Shut  palace  where  she  darkened  lies. 
'Twas  one  of  countless  fantasies 
Her  waiting  gentlewomen  should 
Be  seven  in  number,  wise  as  good, 
And  chaste  as  witty,  by  a  word 
Called  from  the  stars. 

EVA 

Pleiads  ? 

MICAELA  I  heard 

That  sisterhood  was  one  time  seven, 
But  six  walk  now  the  wintry  heaven : 
One  fell. 

MADDALENA 

And  of  the  princess'  band 
—  Who  loved  like  sisters,  understand  — 
One  loved  outside  the  ring,  and  fell. 

[38] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

EVA 
Which  one  ? 

MADDALENA 

Nay,  I  —  I  cannot  tell : 
One  told  me  not.     But  she  so  grieved 
For  her  of  whom  was  heaven  bereaved 
Heart-stricken  she  sank,  and,  laid  abed, 
She  sleeps  there  like  one  newly  dead, 
And  scarcely  swallows,  and  cannot  speak, 
And  'twixt  the  linen  and  her  cheek 
Is  no  more  difference,  than  show 
The  white  narcissus-cups  on  snow. 
And  you  may  mark  in  April  weather 
When  the  six  ladies  walk  together, 
How  they  go  veiled,  as  mourning  her 
That  fled,  and  her  that  cannot  stir 
Outside  her  one-time  pleasure-palace. 

MICAELA 

They  go  like  doves,  so  void  of  malice 
Their  meek  distress,  that  her  their  shame 
As  if  among  them  still,  they  name. 

EVA 

Methinks  not  always  cloistered  they, 

For  sometimes  by  the  hilly  way 

That  runs  above  the  park,  I  have  crossed, 

Where,  deep  retired,  in  boskage  lost 

And  in  the  dusk  of  twilight  air, 

I  have  seen  Ippolyta's  black  hair. 

MADDALENA 

Aye,  they  come  forth;  for  I  espied 

At  mass  last  week,  half  turned  aside, 

[39] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Grave  Arianna's  slender  throat 
Mid  the  court  folk.     I  took  no  note, 
Not  looking  for  her  out  of  door. 

EVA 

When  last  old  rose-hued  moon  swung  o'er 

The  dawning  world,  I  woke  and  went 

To  pick  cool  mushrooms,  dew-besprent, 

From  the  oozy  meadow;  in  startled  view, 

A  girl,  gathering  hoary  dew 

To  fill  a  vial  ere  the  sun  rise, 

Lifted  Laodomia's  strange  green  eyes 

Like  precious  stones  men  singing  praise. 

MlCAELA 

An  hour  since,  in  this  market-place 
I  knew  a  creature  slight;  it  turned; 
Fiammetta's  rose-pale  beauty  burned 
Through  her  white  veil  like  flames  through  glass, 

MADDALENA 

And  where  the  Eastern  merchant  was 

I  have  watched  Orsola's  long  white  hands 

Fingering  the  stuffs  from  Indian  lands. 

EVA 

Will  you  not  laugh,  or  think  I  dream, 
If  I  say  on  ?     I  sought  the  stream 
One  amethyst  noon,  beyond  the  hill, 
For  the  heat's  sake,  to  bathe  in  still 
Cool  water,  and  as  I  lay  along 
Hearing  its  limpid  under-song, 
Screened  by  thick  grasses,  some  one  came 

[40] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

To  dip  slim  hands.     I  lay  for  shame 

Couched,  seeing  a  silken  petticoat. 

A  white  web,  wind-blown,  chanced  to  float 

My  way,  a  little  murmuring  cry 

Pursued  it,  then  a  splash  close  by, 

A  white  arm  reaching,  and  through  the  boughs 

I  saw  Isotta's  pencilled  brows. 

"It  is  wet,"  I  cried,  "but  safely  here." 

She  was  sped  thence,  like  a  brown  deer 

That  feeds  on  lilies  in  a  lake. 

I  keep  the  white  thing  for  her  sake. 

MADDALENA 

Where  the  dames  drag  their  purfled  dress 

Along  the  wrought  stone  terraces, 

I  watch  them  evenings  through  the  grate. 

And  one  I  have  remarked  of  late 

Nearer  the  gates,  to  shun  the  rest, 

And  known  Mafalda's  grieving  breast. 

MICAELA 

Have  we  not  named  the  seven  names  o'er 
Although  one  girl  is  here  no  more  ? 
There  is  enchantment  in  this  thing. 

MADDALENA 

No  ill  could  soil  our  lady's  wing; 

It  is  white  magic  if  'tis  aught. 

EVA 

I  shall  not  tire  myself  with  thought 
About  great  folk  who  are  not  as  we. 
The  shadows  all  are  shrunken;  see, 
One  lies  here  sleep-sequestered  still. 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

MADDALENA 

Such  sleep  as  poppy-heads  distil. 

MICAELA 

Let  her  sleep  on,  poor  lass. 

EVA 

I  fear 

Her  mates  stole  off  and  left  her  here : 
I  will  come  back  for  her  ere  night. 

MADDALENA 

Come  now;  the  pavement  waves  with  light. 

MICAELA 

Touch  her.     She  does  not  wake,  yet  yields; 

So  men  sleep,  after  stricken  fields. 

MADDALENA 

So  women,  when  their  hearts  are  eased. 

EVA 

Babes,  too,  that  sob  and  are  appeased. 

Noon  goes  over  the  silent  square.     Then   the  Duchess  stirs 
and  rises. 

DUCHESS 

I  dreamed  I  lost  the  fervid  stone 
Upon  my  brow  that  binds  my  hair; 
I  dreamed  I  lost  the  gold-wrought  zone 

[42] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Bossed  with  clear  jewels,  high  ladies  wear; 

And,  outcast  from  my  maiden  throne, 

Left  my  furred  robe  I  knew  not  where. 

What  idle  pain  a  dream  may  cost, 

To  think  that  pride  and  place  were  lost ! 

Mafalda,  Isotta,  Orsola, 

Fiammetta  and  Ippolyta, 

Arianna,  Laodomia  ! 

I  thought  to  tell  my  handmaidens 

A  strange  dream,  but  they  lie  far  hence, 

Cool  in  white  tissue  of  distant  looms, 

In  marble-paven  and  arras'd  rooms. 

Sharp,  breathless  light  brims  up  the  square, 

Rose-red  houses  beat  back  fierce  air, 

But  the  high  fountain-basin  flings 

Upward  in  brilliant  waverings 

A  slender  shaft;  the  crystal  breaks; 

While  the  white  pillar  turns  and  shakes 

Drops  tinkle  and  fall;  softly  they  drip 

To  dim  stone  tank  from  brazen  lip. 

I  have  slept  well.     Where  shall  I  turn, 

Where  moons  strike  not  nor  suns  do  burn  ? 

I  have,  I  think,  a  sleepy  will.  .  .  . 

What  music  comes  so  sweet  and  shrill  ? 

What  is  that  little  rustling  sound 

Like  dead  leaves  hurried  along  the  ground 

By  autumn  winds  or  through  the  street 

Harried  in  droves  ?     Lo,  tiny  feet 

Toiling  and  pressing,  an  anxious  stream 

Of  silky  goats  comes  —  white  as  cream, 

Brown  as  a  moth,  or  tanned  and  shagged; 

This  has  a  curled  horn,  that  is  ragged. 

[43] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

'The  shepherd  follows  his  goats,  his  pipe  at  his  lips  to  resume 
the  tune;  he  pauses  on  seeing  the  Duchess.  The  goats  push  up 
to  the  fountain  and  he  helps  them  drink  from  the  conduit  below, 
but  blindly;  having  drunk,  the  little  creatures  lie  down  in  such 
thin  lines  of  shade  as  they  can  find,  all  along  under  the  wall 
of- the  church. 

SHEPHERD 

Her  face  is  the  moonlit  air, 

Her  touch  is  the  cold  sea  foam; 
I  have  not  kissed  her  cloudy  hair, 

Nor  seen  quick  tears  her  eyelids  brighten; 
But  when  the  sun  has  changed  his  lair 

And  the  last  pilgrim-bird  is  home, 
Shall  I  not  know  how  she  is  fair, 

While  the  warm  dark  shall  laugh  and  lighten  ? 

DUCHESS 

What  make  you,  shepherd,  here  ?     More  sweet 
Your  upland  pastures,  screened  from  heat 
By  chestnuts,  and  your  calm  employs. 

SHEPHERD 

O  hush  not  yet  that  singing  voice ! 

0  let  those  emeralds,  as  in  dreams 

1  have  prayed,  bend  on  me  their  beams 
Spirit-enkindling,  yet  a  while  ! 

And  let  that  slow  mysterious  smile 
Inscrutable,  just  curve  the  cheek, 
The  lids  just  narrow,  as  if  you  seek 
Waters  that  run  deep  under  ground 
Or  gems  rock-bosomed.     I  have  found 

[44] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

In  the  dim  woods'  most  silent  seat 

Where  noonday  dew  has  splashed  my  feet, 

Buds  and  leaves  fallen  as  you  passed  through. 

You  are  a  witch-lady,  are  not  you  ? 

Or  are  you,  as  the  priests  complain, 

After  your  exile  come  again, 

One  of  the  great  lost  goddesses, 

Vineyard  and  tilth  to  touch  and  bless 

In  August,  and  the  orchard  croft 

In  March  :     I  have  hung  you  garlands  oft 

Of  purple  clover  and  silvery  thyme, 

And  sere  oak-boughs  in  fall,  with  rime 

O'er-whitened,  wreaths  in  spring-time  shed, 

Of  the  rathe  cyclamen's  troubled  red 

Fashioned,  to  win  your  grace  for  men. 

Are  you  in  very  presence,  then, 

The  mighty  Mother,  care-beguiled, 

Or  are,  indeed,  her  ravished  child, 

The  wedded  maid,  come  back  to  share 

For  the  sweet  season,  the  warm,  swift  air, 

And  the  remembered  light  of  flowers  ? 

DUCHESS 

What,  did  I  climb,  these  drowsy  hours, 

The  dark  road,  thronged  with  shadows  grey, 

From  the  faint  under-world  away 

Into  large  daylight  and  the  breath 

Of  life  that  never  questioneth  ? 

Your  eyelids  beat,  lad ! 

SHEPHERD 

O,  benign 
Lighten  on  me,  Monna  Proserpine ! 

[45] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

DUCHESS 

I  am  no  divine  thing,  but  a  girl. 

SHEPHERD 

You  set  my  sun-steeped  brain  awhirl ! 

Then  I  may  kiss,  maybe,  your  feet, 

And,  without  anger,  hands  so  sweet 

My  reverent  lips  do  wrong  them  ?     Bear 

I  pray  with  patience,  unaware 

If  I  am  clumsy  and  amiss; 

I  have  had  but  hyacinths  to  kiss, 

And  brown  soft  cubs,  and  the  quick  breasts 

That  quiver  in  squirrels'  holes,  and  nests 

Of  bright-eyed  friendly  singing-birds. 

Look  you,  I  have  not  any  words, 

My  poor  throat  cannot  even  sing. 

Only  my  arms,  that  quicken  and  cling 

Around  you,  strong  and  fast  enlaced, 

While  I  kneel  here,  hold  you  embraced. 

Speak  not  now,  stir  not,  only  smile. 

You  are  a  spray-dashed,  flower-flecked  isle, 

And  I  the  circling  mountain  brook. 

There  is  a  kindness  in  your  look 

That  veils  its  lightning:  let  me  cool 

My  forehead  in  your  pitiful 

Soft  hands,  or  touch  your  fragrant  dress 

To  ease  my  bosom's  new  distress. 

DUCHESS 

A  delicate  lord  is  love,  wooing  of  voice, 

Mild-eyed  and  subtle-spoken  ; 
But  sanguine-hearted,  sleepless :  for  his  toys 

Tossing  men's  hearts  till  broken. 

[46] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

While  in  his  footprint  set 

I  found  his  aspect  sweet ; 
Now  I  would  fain  forget 

Where  trod  his  charmed  feet. 

SHEPHERD 

White  throat  that  exquisitely  throbs, 

Even  your  music  some  grace  robs 

From  the  pure  curve;  your  cheek's  thin  line 

Is  as  the  jonquil's  chalice  fine. 

And  all  your  honey-coloured  hair 

Is  warm  and  live,  its  curls  ensnare 

The  sun,  a  nest  of  spiceries. 

Though  the  curved  lashes  veil  your  eyes, 

Large,  bright,  below,  a  slow  tear  slips. 

The  music  burns  between  your  lips: 

Like  a  fruit  smelling  of  the  south, 

Like  a  pomegranate  is  your  mouth, 

I  hunger  and  fear  to  taste  thereof 

Lest  I  die.     Lo  you,  this  is  love !  .  .  . 

My  pipe,  where  is  it  ?     Sweet  flock,  awake ! 

Green  waits  your  pasture  by  the  lake. 

Creature  benign,  come  home  with  these 

To  where,  beneath  dense  chestnut  trees, 

Girt  in  by  wattled  cotes  for  sheep, 

The  rough,  wise  dogs  shall  guard  your  sleep. 

You  are  not  loth  to  climb  the  pass  ? 

So  thick  the  pines,  so  tall  the  grass, 

That  men  come  never  from  below. 

DUCHESS 

Shepherd,  I  am  content  to  go. 

I  think  all  voices  there  will  cease, 

And  but  one  name  be  worshipped  —  peace. 

[47] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 


They  go  out.     The  market  begins  again. 

THE  MERCHANTS  IMPORTUNATE 

Come  buy,  sweethearts,  come  buy,  come  buy! 
Here  be  dainties  sold  by  measure, 
Eyes'  delight  and  passion's  treasure, 
Youth  is  taken  in  change  for  pleasure. 
Come  buy  of  us,  come  buy  ! 

Come  buy,  good  sir;  bright  dame,  come  buy! 
Why  ere  nightfall  be  a  sleeper? 
Goods  are  tarnished  but  are  cheaper; 
Feed  flesh  full,  earth  soon  shall  keep  her! 
Come  buy  at  last,  come  buy  ! 


A  CANDLE-LIGHT  HYMN 

Lord,  we  have  wrought  and  praised  thee  since  red  morn, 

And  now  the  sun  goes  down : 
The  burthen  and  the  day's  long  heat  are  borne, 

Lights  quicken  through  the  town. 
Thick  in  the  quiet  air  soft  shadows  creep, 

Swift  darkness  is  anear; 
O  Sun  of  Righteousness,  lighten  our  sleep, 

And  keep  our  hearts  from  fear  ! 

The  spinners  return  in  the  late  twilight. 

MADDALENA 

I  wish  the  sleeper  that  is  gone 
Find  nothing  harder  than  a  stone 
To  lay  her  tired  gold  head  upon. 

[48] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

EVA 

Man's  days  are  a  child's  feverish  dreams 
Who  in  the  market  sleeps,  and  deems 
That  the  sole  real,  which  only  seems. 

MICAELA 

Hither  she  strayed  out  of  the  night, 
She  went  hence  into  deep  twilight, 
Yet  her  feet  lead  her  safe  and  right. 

They  spin  in   silence.     Piepowder  comes  back,  walking  and 
calling  softly  through  the  dark. 

PIEPOWDER 

Is  she  here  ?     Lionella,  stay, 

For  I  have  given  my  soul  away 

And  I  must  have  it  back  or  die. 

Up  through  the  mountains  toward  the  sky 

I  climbed,  where  dark-leaved  ilexes 

Straggle  and  dwindle  and  lastly  cease, 

Firs  and  great  rocks  stand  lonely:  there, 

In  the  white  noon-tide's  tenuous  air, 

Supine  upon  the  slippery  brown 

Warm  earth  and  odorous,  I  flung  down 

To  see  the  sun  blaze  through  the  pine; 

But  the  sun  was  a  tavern  sign, 

The  earth  a  great  house  masterless, 

The  very  sky,  that  leans  to  bless, 

Prisoned  me  in  its  brazen  dome; 

The  jade-green,  arrowy  torrent's  foam 

Frothed  lifeless  underneath  the  fall 

As  tired  mimes  toss  the  heavy  ball. 

The  mountain  had  no  word,  in  fine. 

I  left  the  dizzying  sunshine, 

[49] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Dropping,  in  oak-wood  glades  concealed, 

Down  to  a  hidden  grassy  field 

With  fragrant  limes  and  poplars  set, 

Whose  twinkling  leaves,  in  ceaseless  fret, 

Lisp  into  pleasant  rainy  noises. 

The  clamorous  thicket's  fiery  voices 

All  noon-day  try  the  night-song  o'er; 

Untouched,  wide  gossameres  sparkle  hoar 

Even  till  mid-morning,  while  the  thrush 

Unfrighted,  from  a  swaying  bush 

Rolls  her  clear  descant  rich  and  shrill; 

Violet  and  gilded  daffodil 

Border  the  meadow  forestward. 

Once  more  I  found  the  sense  turned  hard. 

So,  being  heavy,  I  fell  asleep. 

I  stood  where  clouds  trailed  o'er  a  steep 

Grey,  sullen,  trembling  waste  of  sea  : 

A  strong  grey  wind  blew  ceaselessly 

Across  it  on  me;  at  either  hand 

Ran  the  long  beach's  printless  sand, 

And  the  sounds  strove  of  wind  and  sea; 

But  the  vast  had  no  voice  for  me. 

I  woke  —  blue  twilight's  filmy  eyes 

Were  empty,  and  the  darkening  skies 

Paper  pricked  over  with  a  pin 

By  a  foolish  hand.     It  was  my  sin 

To  love  one  girl  more  than  all  earth : 

I,  that  was  wanderer  from  my  birth, 

My  love  being  lost,  am  sick  at  soul; 

Where  grows  the  herb  shall  make  me  whole  ? 

EVA 

Who  in  the  shadow  walks  unseen  ? 

[50] 


THE   WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

My  mother  called  me  Peregrin', 

But  in  a  far  sea-isle,  whose  mart 

Was  thronged  with  blue-eyed  sailors  swart, 

They  named  me  Master  Piepowder. 

MADDALENA 

Why,  furtive,  scan  the  empty  square, 

Messer  Piepowder,  in  thickening  light  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Before  the  brown  dusk  blackened  quite 

I  hoped  by  whistle  and  by  lure 

A  restless  eaglet  to  secure 

That  took  flight,  startled,  from  my  wrist. 

EVA 

Your  chance,  good  subtle-tongue,  is  missed 
A  longsome  while  may  be  to  wait. 

Beneath  my  mother's  eyes  I  span, 

Or  broidered,  set  apart: 
I  left  her  for  a  roving  man 

To  sleep  upon  his  heart. 
But  some  come  early,  some  come  late, 

Where  all  at  last  must  be; 
And  now  I  wait  inside  hell's  gate 

Till  he  shall  he  by  me. 

PIEPOWDER 

A  wind  storms  up  from  the  city  gate, 
Fanning  the  wretched  straws  about 
As  soldiers  hunt  a  peasant  rout. 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

MlCAELA 

Tell  me  your  loss  apart,  fair  youth. 

PIEPOWDER 

A  beryl,  an  amulet  in  truth, 

From  my  neck;  hereabouts  it  lies. 

MICAELA 

No  search  till  the  aging  moon  shall  rise. 

Three  queens  in  the  tower  are  spinning  a  thread, 
Over  their  laps  it  lies  tangled  and  red. 

In  the  choking  white  sea-fog  the  stones  drip  with  rime, 
And  hushed  is  the  bell  that  rang  vespers  and  prime. 

—  Is  it  finished?    My  fingers  are  wrinkled  with  cold ; 
We  were  spinning  so  long  we  must  be  very  old. 

—  A  lock  of  the  fine  scarlet  'wool  is  unspent ; 
But  the  vair  on  our  bosoms  is  faded  and  rent. 

Strong  from  the  void  mounts  the  cry  of  the  tide, 
While  never  sweet  airs  blow  the  cold  mist  aside. 

—  The  sun  is  dead,  sister ;  it  darkens  to  night, 
And  how  shall  we  measure  the  thread  without  light? 

Our  lamps  at  the  stair-foot  were  left  long  ago, 
But  we  are  too  feeble  to  venture  below. 

PIEPOWDER 

The  air,  though  pale  with  hope  of  light, 

Is  colder  than  a  mountain  height. 

[52] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

MADDALENA 

The  others  spin,  and  with  shut  breast 
Review  their  stored-up  thoughts.     No  jest: 
Your  errand  in  my  ear:  stoop  lower! 

PIEPOWDER 

My  bosom  bore  a  gold  sunflower, 

Good  dame;  though  lost,  the  flower  august 

Must  not  wither  here  in  the  dust. 

MADDALENA 

A  flower  can  bloom  a  single  day: 

Man  has  a  single  life,  they  say. 

The  Christmas  child  is  blithe  and  douce, 
The  Pasque-child  makes  a  holy  house. 
St.  "John's  can  hear  the  fairy  talk, 
All  Hallows'  with  the  dead  can  walk. 
But  never  honest  girl  was  born 
Upon  a  dark  Good  Friday  morn. 

PIEPOWDER 

Gossips,  I  know  not  what  you  be, 
But,  'faith,  you  sing  not  cheerfully. 
To  sit  and  spin,  how  should  you  know 
God's  birds  alight  and  walk  below, 
And  oft  with  plumes  unsinged,  and  dress 
Unscorched,  love  treads  in  furnaces  ? 
Yon  windows  show  a  silver  streak, 
When  the  moon  tops  the  first  house-peak 
I  must  be  breathing  country  air. 

MADDALENA 

Gossip,  the  player  is  debonair. 

[53] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

'Give  you  good  even,  and  better  tunes. 

EVA 

May  dewy  coolness  charm  your  noons  — 

MADDALENA 

Stars  show  by  day  — 

MlCAELA 

And  nights  be  light. 

THE  THREE  SPINNERS 

Messer  Piepowder,  a  kind  good-night. 

They  go,  still  spinning,  along  the  dark  street, 

PIEPOWDER 

The  high  heart  shall  not  stoop  to  ill; 

Faith  can  outdare  old  women  s  lore, 

Bitter  prove  cure  for  sore. 
She  has  her  proud  life  lonely  to  fulfil 
And  I  must  urge  my  way  and  purge  my  will. 

The  ardent  quiet  of  the  strong 

Is  to  the  winds  and  waters  dear, 

For  spirits  still  and  clear 
Only,  can  mirror  steadily  and  long 
The  mountains  and  the  uncounted  starry  throng. 


[54] 


ACT   III 

Among  the  mountains.  The  Duchess  at  the  door  of  a  hut, 
waiting  under  a  vine-trellis  hung  with  purple  bunches;  the 
shepherd's  pipe  is  heard  as  the  shepherd  comes  home. 

DUCHESS 

The  pale,  still,  autumn-tasting  air 

Is  all  too  thin  and  cool  to  upbear 

Those  fluttering  notes,  that  flag  and  waver, 

With  many  a  trill  and  plaintive  quaver 

Lingering  out  the  wistful  strain. 

So,  you  come  back  to  me  again, 

Dear  heart  and  goodly,  to  whom  each  hour 

My  bosom  turned,  as  the  sunflower 

Fast  rooted,  through  diminished  gyres 

Follows  Hyperion's  splendid  fires. 

At  even,  my  breast  becomes  the  sea 

Where  that  sun  sinks  triumphantly 

Empurpling  its  pure  hyaline. 

SHEPHERD 

Your  mouth,  like  honeyed  eglantine, 

Sweetest  heart,  all  day  thirsted  for, 

I  taste,  and  thirst  for  it  the  more: 

Then  touch  each  quivering  eyelid  thin, 

Shutting  the  moony  glimmer  in : 

Your  tender  hand,  that  clings  and  tightens: 

Lastly,  your  throat,  that  dusks  and  whitens, 

Through  all  its  firm,  pale,  slender  length, 

[55] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

From  sharp  chin's  grace  to  shoulder's  strength 
Sweeter  than  dappled  sycamore. 

DUCHESS 

Ruddy  curls,  bronzed  and  burnished  o'er, 
The  sun  and  wind  that  in  you  played 
Together,  have  left  you  disarrayed 
With  memories  of  the  pine  forest. 

SHEPHERD 

Linger  a  moment  on  my  breast. 

Your  pale  red  lips  are  tremulous  fire, 

I  am  the  phcenix'  unpriced  pyre, 

I  the  lone  bird  aerial. 

As,  for  the  nobler  grape  in  fall, 

The  sun,  now  pausing  on  the  line, 

Turns  all  his  being  into  wine, 

Your  lip's  touch  is  the  lustral  rite 

Transmuting  mine  to  essence  bright, 

Till  from  your  mouth's  high  sacrament 

I  mount  all  spirit. 

DUCHESS 

With  strength  unspent, 
Brown  arms  that  close,  ye  hold  me  fast 
Where  time  knows  neither  first  nor  last, 
Yea,  in  God's  fire-girt  paradise.  .  .  . 
Even  while  we  touch  it,  yonder  flies 
The  moment,  far  already  away. 
Tell  me,  how  passed  the  slow  sweet  day  ? 

SHEPHERD 

The  soft  sheep  cropped  a  lawny  shore, 

In  face  of  where  the  torrent  hoar 

[56] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Down  the  rock-wall  of  its  own  weight 
A  dangling  skein  drops  fine  and  straight. 
To-night  I  could  not  hear  its  rush, 
The  air  sets  thither;  yet  in  the  hush 
Through  the  deep  reeds  that  fringe  the  lake 
I  heard  the  long  pale  ripples  break 
With  a  low,  ceaseless,  lapping  noise. 

DUCHESS 

Came  there  not  any  wandering  boys 
Up  the  stream's  bed,  intent  to  find 
Green-bearded  filberts,  or  behind 
The  pinfold,  chestnuts  glossy  brown  ? 
Or  a  strayed  hunter,  scrambling  down 
The  barren-ridged  mountain-crest  ? 
Or  pilgrim  in  his  earth-grey  vest  ? 

SHEPHERD 

I  saw  none  such ;  who  should  there  be  ? 

DUCHESS 

Who  should  come  hither,  verily  ? 

SHEPHERD 

Why  question  of  so  unlike  a  thing  ? 

DUCHESS 

Because  the  air  has  seemed  to  sing 

All  day.     A  far-off  lute-player 

I  thought  —  but  'twas  a  kind  of  purr 

O'  the  blood;  the  ear  dreamed,  as  the  eye 

Sees  the  world  reel  in  mid-July. 

Still  sit,  amidst  this  leafy  green, 

[57] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

And  pause,  the  little  words  between, 
To  touch  your  reed-stops  fitfully, 
Till  a  beam  climbs  the  cypress  tree 
Rusty,  to  gild  its  tawny  peak. 

SHEPHERD 

Your  strong  white  kid  was  far  to  seek 
At  noon ;  those  hoofs,  like  agate  blocks 
Polished  and  streaked,  among  sharp  rocks 
They  danced  on  upward,  who  so  gay  ? 
He  paused  to  pasture  on  the  way, 
Glancing  bright  looks,  the  slender  head 
Lifting  each  instant  as  he  fed, 
And  ever  in  pretended  fear 
Leaping  steep  shelves  as  I  drew  near, 
Till  I  must  fetch  a  half  mile  round 
And  come  on  him  from  higher  ground. 
He  will  dance  some  day  to  the  wolf's  den. 

DUCHESS 

I  will  smoke  out  the  grim  wolf  then, 

And  save  my  wanton  wanderer. 

Pallid  gold  of  the  windless  air 

Blazons  summer's  accomplished  time. 

Sing,  my  dear  heart,  and  when  the  rhyme 

Pauses  and  turns  with  iterant  passion, 

As  is  our  comely  country  fashion, 

I  will  awake  my  harsher  throat 

To  answer  on  another  note. 

SHEPHERD 

Sweetheart,  when  you  are  old  and  small  and  grey, 
And  your  dear  voice  is  but  a  rustling  sound, 

[58] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

And  in  the  sun  or  by  the  fire  all  day 

You  spin  and  tell  of  me  to  girls  around, 
Tell  of  me  only  bout  I  loved  you  so 
That  my  days  breathed  away  like  April  snow; 
Tell  of  me  to  no  bold  girl  or  her  lover, 
But  in  your  deep  heart  murmur  my  name  over. 

DUCHESS 

Now  we  love :  who  knows  age,  alas  ? 

When  you  do  pipe,  beloved,  I  shut  my  eyes 

And  think  I  hear  the  brook's  voice  and  the  wind, 

And  when  you  sing,  I  know  in  Paradise 

One  bird  had  such  a  note  before  Eve  sinned : 

But  when  you  sing  and  hold  me,  next  December, 

I  wonder,  shall  I  all  spring's  sweets  remember? 
Ah,  sing  and  clasp  me,  for  I  wonder  yet 
If  Eve  remembered;   if  you  will  forget! 

Hold  me  close,  ere  the  good  hour  pass. 

SHEPHERD 

A  white  moth  flits  beneath  the  trees 
Whose  crests  are  hushed  with  mysteries, 
While  all  the  sward  is  barred  and  quaint 
With  radiance  cool  and  shadow  faint. 
What  filled  your  lonely  hours  of  sun  ? 

DUCHESS 

I  took  my  tufted  distaff,  dun 

With  carded  hemp,  down  the  thick  wood 

Of  gnarly  ilex  dark;  and  stood 

Where  through  the  blue  air  crystalline 

[59] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

I  saw  old  cities,  hill-set,  shine, 
Dark-walled,  slim-towered,  against  the  sun; 
But  white-crowned  flashed  to  southward  one 
Ringed  with  red  walls;  and  from  the  plain, 
Thin  as  the  tinkle  of  sun-smit  rain, 
The  Angelus  bell  I  heard,  and  thought 
How  love  is  all  and  we  are  nought. 
Then  I  dreamed,  right  in  purple  noon, 
That  music,  like  the  cradle  tune 
My  mother  might  have  stilled  me  by, 
Though  ere  the  moon  that  in  the  sky 
Signed  my  birth,  dwindled  and  was  gone, 
She  was  asleep  and  under  stone. 

SHEPHERD 

This  was  a  dream,  foolish  sweet  creature, 

Magic  to  make  from  things  of  nature. 

I  know  right  well  your  Angelus-spell. 

It  was  the  silver-tempered  bell 

From  the  brown  church's  tower,  that,  set 

Upon  our  mighty  flanks,  is  yet 

Hid  by  a  spur  from  all  our  pass : 

There  where  you  have  heard  your  Christmas  mass, 

And  borne  pink  lilies,  Lady-Day. 

DUCHESS 

Happen  it  did,  then,  as  you  say, 
I  think  'twas  nothing,  for  my  part. 
But  woke  and  echoed  in  my  heart 
Forgotten  dreams :  one  evening 
After  a  long  day's  journeying, 
When  I  climbed  up  to  such  a  town; 
The  grass  was  tall  and  green;  a  brown 
Fine  dust  was  under-foot,  and  soft; 

[60] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Rose-red,  the  city  hung  aloft; 
Sparse  olives,  silver-leafed  and  frail, 
Tinged  the  declining  sunlight  pale 
But  cast  no  shade.     The  road  swung  on 
In  wide  loops,  narrowing  sharp;  upon 
The  level  last,  hard  by  the  gate 
—  For  it  was  there  we  had  to  wait 
While  a  rude  soldier  munched  his  bread  — 
I  saw,  to  all  the  eastward  spread, 
Like  the  waves'  waste  in  form  and  hue, 
Innumerous,  tossing  vast  and  blue, 
A  tumbled  sea  of  hills,  all  kissed 
By  lights  enmeshed  of  amethyst. 
These  are  these  mountains  magical; 
I  dwell,  enchanted,  amidst  them  all. 

Piepawder,  out  of  sight,  sings  the  song  of  the  three  queens, 
the  lute  continuing  to  sound  through  the  trees  as  he  moves  en 
tangled  among  the  sheep-cotes. 

DUCHESS 
Listen  ! 

SHEPHERD 

How  late  a  traveller! 

DUCHESS 

Did  you  not  hear  the  falcon  stir 


His  bells  ? 
SHEPHERD 


And  a  dog  whines  thereby. 


DUCHESS 

Listen  !     He  ruffles  drowsily 

His  downy  bosom's  changing  sheen. 

[61] 


THE   WAY   OF    PERFECT   LOVE 

SHEPHERD 

Aye,  something  has  roused  our  peregrine. 

In  the  dusk  wind  the  trees  begin 

To  talk  together;  let  us  go  in. 

Your  hand  is  cold  as  a  snow-wreath. 

DUCHESS 

Look  how  the  darkness  lies  beneath 

The  boughs,  and  still  its  tide  mounts  higher, 

Starward. 

SHEPHERD 

You  shiver.     You  shall  have  fire, 
See,  the  first  fire  of  the  late  year. 
A  week  ago  I  ranged  it  here 
With  cedarn  boughs  and  cinnamon 
And  odorous  gums  from  lands  all  sun, 
That  you  might  kindle  at  our  door 
On  the  wind-haunted  threshing-floor 
The  very  fire  should  scare  off  harm 
Through  the  long  rainy  nights,  while  warm 
We  are  singing  spring  to  us. 

DUCHESS 

Not  to-night. 
The  south  blows  warm. 

SHEPHERD 

This  coal  is  alight; 
Look,  as  I  blow  the  filmy  ashes 
The  rose-breast  of  it  wanes  and  flashes. 
Touch  but  these  leaves  before  we  sing 
The  autumnal  hymn  of  fire-lighting. 
The  wavering  flame  that  creeps  and  hides 

[62] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Licks  round  the  logs,  veers  and  subsides, 

Then  roaring  leaps  to  flicker  and  curl 

As  though  a  world-rose  should  unfurl, 

Or,  in  an  airy  jet,  aspire 

Topaz,  ruby,  sharp  sapphire, 

The  accumulated  treasuries  all 

Of  palaces  ethereal. 

Poised  like  a  living  thing,  it  breathes, 

Laughs,  and  flings  from  its  supple  wreaths 

In  hot  triumphant  mockery 

Spark-showers  toward  the  eclipsed  sky. 

Sweet,  take  this  bough  with  flames  abloom 

And  wake  the  hearth-fire  in  the  room. 

Still  listless  ?     Then  my  arm  about  you 

Does  what  I  shall  not  do  without  you. 

The  faggots  crackle  and  hiss,  unbound, 

And  the  warm  light  wavy,  a  gold  embrowned, 

Plays  through  the  shut-in,  kindly  place. 

Once  more  grow  nights  dearer  than  days. 

While  the  sap  shrieks,  the  blue  flames  spring, 

Against  my  shoulder  lean  and  sing. 

DUCHESS 

What  you  have  done  I  cannot  stay. 

The  stars  have  marched,  which  met  to-day, 

Since  on  their  road  God  set  them  first. 

Sing  you.     I  cannot  if  I  durst. 

SHEPHERD 

O  presence  holy 

Of  divine  unrest, 
Firginal,  lowly, 

To  thine  unmemoned  breast 

[63] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

With  faith  secure 
The  world's  rejections 

Kindly  thou  takest, 
Man's  best  perfections 

Only  thou  makest 
Utterly  clean  and  pure.   .   .   . 

DUCHESS 

Hark,  the  dogs!     Knocking  at  the  door! 

Yet  still  I  will  not  cross  the  floor 

Nor  lift  the  latch  to  summoning  fate. 

SHEPHERD 

What,  you  are  feverous  !     It  is  late : 

The  wandering  voice  we  heard  —  I  come !  — • 

Would  ask  the  road  or  beg  a  crumb. 

Your  brow  and  palm  are  moist  and  cool. 

Cling  not,  dear  heart;  take  you  that  stool 

Screened  in  the  chimney  corner  dim, 

For  I  must  open  indeed  to  him. 

The  dogs  are  waking:       Silver,  Tray, 

List  how  they  clamour,  Blanche  and  Stray ! 

PIEPOWDER 

A  good  night,  friends;  your  mountain  is  high. 

Have  you  clean  straw  for  such  as  I, 

A  loaf's  end,  and,  from  shaggy-shanks, 

A  cup  of  milk  ?     For  meed,  my  thanks; 

Then,  ere  we  sleep,  at  tune  and  song 

A  match,  so  it  were  not  too  long. 

SHEPHERD 

In  a  good  hour  for  us  you  came. 

Will  you  not  sit  and  wr  :h  the  flame  ? 

[64] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

I  thought  to  have  crossed  the  pass  to-night 
But  found  it  in  the  owlet  light 
Dangerous.     Your  bale-fire  drew  me  back, 
When  I  had  lost  the  plainer  track 
And  among  sheep-cotes  groped  astray, 
To  lie  by  it  content  till  day: 
Then,  as  beneath  your  door  I  spied 
Flames'  changeful  light,  and  heard  inside 
Singing,  hard  on  a  softer  tone  — 
But  your  companion  is  gone. 

SHEPHERD 

Sir,  eye  not  so  these  empty  bowls; 
A  pipkin  simmers  on  the  coals 
Within  there,  which  we  must  await. 

PlEPOWDER 

Kind  sylvan  folk,  to  come  so  late 
Is  not  to  earn  so  large  a  share 
Of  shepherd's  peace  and  shepherd's  fare. 
Three  queens  in  the  tower  are  spinning  a  thread, 

SHEPHERD 

Is  it  lute,  voice,  or  song,  or  all, 

Has  that  ambiguous,  haunting  fall, 

Like  an  old  nurse's  lullaby 

To  a  child  born  too  sad  to  cry  ? 

PlEPOWDER 

I  learned  it  long  since,  as  I  think, 

From  three  strange  skinners,  by  the  brink 

[65] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Of  a  town  fountain.     Sharp  folk  they, 
But  kindly,  with  wise  words  to  say 
To  whoso  neither  fawns  nor  fears. 

SHEPHERD 

Learned  they  their  wisdom  from  the  years  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Each,  rather,  from  her  bosom  deep. 

Eva's  was  moulded  so  to  keep 

A  tired  child  warm :  childlike  her  thought. 

But  Maddalena's  lore  was  bought: 

Her  eyes  have  lost  their  languishment, 

And  round  the  shrunk  shape,  shaken  and  bent, 

Softer  than  ermine,  hangs  her  hair. 

SHEPHERD 

What  is  the  other  who  spins  there  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

In  her  aspect  two  habits  stand,  — 

Virginity,  and  long  command, 

As  who  an  abbess  should  have  been. 

The  Duchess  passes  to  go  out  under  the  vine-trellis. 

SHEPHERD 

Where  goes  my  love  ?     What  has  she  seen  ? 

DUCHESS 

Nothing.     The  night  is  hushed  and  dark, 

Dew  patters  from  the  branches  stark. 

[66] 


THE   WAY   OF    PERFECT   LOVE 

I  would  fain  taste  the  silent  air 
Dark,  cool  as  is  deep  well-water. 

SHEPHERD 

They  talk  of  many  things,  no  doubt, 

Down  in  the  cities  all  about  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Aye,  of  themselves,  then  of  the  court,  — • 

Each  other's  sins  duly  report. 

SHEPHERD 

I  saw  the  Duke  once.     I  am  told 

That  since  his  wife  died,  he  grows  old. 

PIEPOWDER 

The  Duke  was  never  married  —  nay, 

Madonna  Lionella  lives;  men  say 

She  sickened  in  her  palace  fair 

And  tranced  lies,  love-havened,  there. 

SHEPHERD 

Yet  I  remember  how  it  was  said 

When  the  ereat  Duke  died,  this  should  wed 

D  * 

His  child,  who  no  way  else  might  take 
The  realm  that  for  her  mother's  sake 
Whom  he  so  loved,  he  would  have  for  hers. 

PIEPOWDER 

That  intent,  common  talk  avers; 
But  though  his  dying  wish  was  sore 
His  child  was  not  delivered  o'er 
Loveless,  unloved,  to  wedlock  strait : 
The  royal  bird  must  choose,  to  mate. 

[67] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

SHEPHERD 

Does  the  Duke  love  her,  so  to  pine  ? 

PIE  POWDER 

I  think  he  loved,  by  a  sure  sign, 

That  never  pledge  nor  promise  lay 

Betwixt  them,  till  that  sorry  day 

Which  cost  men's  eyes  their  Duchess'  face, 

And  cost  the  Duke  all  life's  dear  grace. 

Yet  may  it  be  lies,  all  said  of  her. 

SHEPHERD 

Please  you  to  sup,  good  wayfarer  ? 
Seethed  with  all  spices,  here  is  kid, 
White  bread,  cream  by  the  cool  wave  hid 
All  noontide,  dark  in  earthen  crock, 
Where  wind-swept  grasses  ripple  and  rock. 
And  here  are  grapes  of  silvery  green 
With  sunrise  flushed,  the  bloomy  sheen 
Of  others  globed  purple;    and  sweet, 
Cold,  and  a  little  crisp  to  eat, 
Tender  figs,  dun  and  violet, 
Pearled  over  with  night's  freshness  yet; 
Firm  curd-balls  snowy,  and  last,  a  few 
Green,  velvet  almonds,  milky-new. 
Dainties  more  rare  we  lack;  here  not 
Flushed  peach,  nor  freckled  bergamot, 
Nor  vermeil  pomegranate,  alas ! 
Such  ripen  not  thus  far  up  the  pass. 

PIEPOWDER 

Than  Salomon  we  are  more  blest; 

His  supper  Balkis  never  dressed, 

[68] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Nor  yet  the  black-browed  Shulamite : 
But  does  our  hostess  fast  to-night  ? 

DUCHESS 

I  have  drunken  milk :  I  want  no  more. 

SHEPHERD 

Is  no  wine,  sweetheart,  in  our  store  ? 
The  unfrequent  guest  more  worthily 
To  honour,  let  us  merry  be. 

PlEPOWDER 

Great-bellied  flasks,  that  nought  may  lack, 
Be  here. 

SHEPHERD 

This,  Roman  tongue  calls  black 
But  we  up  here,  red  wine;  beside 
Sits  pale,  sweet,  sleepy,  amber-eyed 
Vintage  of  Orvieto,  whose  Dome 
Gilds  the  rich  clusters  round  its  home. 

PIEPCWDER 

Still  do  you  taste  neither  of  these  ? 

SHEPHERD 

She  is  half-way  a  Sienese. 

Those  hold,  the  best  of  country  wine 

Is  that  warm,  darker  brewage  fine 

That  in  the  vats  leaps  hot  and  red 

By  Montepulciano's  head. 

[69] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

Men  have  strange  customs  over-sea. 
One  kind  takes  pleasure  curiously 
When  the  wine  lightens  in  the  glass, 
To  name  kind  dame  or  winsome  lass, 
And  in  her  honour  to  drink  about 
As  Romans  poured  libation  out. 
Stately,  grave,  scarce-seen  shepherdess, 
I  drink  your  health  in  humbleness. 

DUCHESS 

Though,  wanderer,  I  may  not  pay 
Your  courtesy  in  the  same  way, 
Because  to-night  I  fast,  your  grace 
Will  let  my  thanks  supply  the  place. 

SHEPHERD 

You  are  a  lute-player,  I  see, 

The  oaten  pipe  suits  best  with  me. 

Yet,  not  unmindful  whom  you  follow, 

Nor  how  the  cruel  bright  Apollo 

Once  served  poor  fluting  Marsyas, 

While,  hidden  in  the  ripe,  tall  grass, 

Old,  kind  Pan  heard  heaven's  clear  notes 

And  limped  back  sorrowful  to  his  goats, 

Furry  brown  fauns,  white  Dryades, 

Weeping,  obscure  among  the  trees  :  — 

I  am  still  for  trial,  as  you  invited. 

Our  prize  shall  be  of  gold  hair  plighted, 

A  bracelet,  woven  from  a  soft  tress 

While  we  sing,  by  this  shepherdess. 

And  as  she  plaits  the  subtle  braid 

She  shall  pronounce  a  judgment  weighed. 

[70] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

Agreed,  but  little  does  it  fit 

In  the  deep  chimney-shade  she  sit. 

SHEPHERD 

Yet  lies  the  fire-light  on  her  hands. 

PlEPOWDER 

They  play  among  the  golden  strands 
Like  doves  in  the  Hesperian  tree. 
So,  since  the  essay  took  start  from  me, 
Set  you  the  pace,  Arcadian. 

SHEPHERD 

Mistress,  when  you  weary  grow 

Of  your  royal  giving, 
Have  no  fear  for  me,  that  know 

But  one  good  in  living. 

Speak  sad  words  without  a  frown, 
Then,  untouched  of  sorrow, 

Kiss  my  heavy  eyelids  down; 
They  will  not  wake  to-morrow. 

PlEPOWDER 

Now  I  halt  after,  if  I  can. 

—  Whither,  stripling,  runs  your  way 

Into  deepening  night? 

—  Sweet,  I  follow  hard  on  day, 

Overtaking  light. 

—  Dusty-foot,  the  wind  is  chill 

In  the  trees  above. 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

—  Harbour  lies  where,  past  the  hill, 

Eddying  marsh-lights  move. 

—  Thick-set  stars  will  mock  your  pain, 

Until  dawning  rest. 

—  That  desire  which  men  call  vain, 

Is  of  all  things  best. 

DUCHESS 

If  sweeter  basil  be,  or  rue, 

Is  a  point,  who  may  answer  to  ? 

The  hollow  lute  awake  again. 

And  teach  your  oat  a  soother  strain. 

SHEPHERD 

I  know  no  descant;  all  my  skill 

Leaves  me  at  forthright  plain-song  still. 

PlEPOWDER 

Love  me  to-day,  while  roses  are  falling, 
And  faint  from  the  cypresses  birds  are  a-calling, 
For  the  rose  ^vlll  be  past,  the  song  be  forgotten, 
And  this  eager  flesh  dust  ere  a  green  tree  be  rotten. 
Love  me  to-day  ere  the  passion  pass  over 
And  the  dead  love' s  perfume  be  forgot  of  the  lover ; 
Love  me  while  pleasure  is  fragrant  and  warm, 
For  love  like  a  bird  can  outsoar  the  swift  storm, 
And  to-day,  though  arms  slacken  and  fevered  lips  tire, 
Love  is  singing  aloft  in  the  seraphim- quire. 

SHEPHERD 

I  cannot  counter  to  such  art, 

To  hush  the  breath,  and  stir  the  heart: 

Take  you  the  bright  hairs  implicate. 

[72] 


THE   WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

How  should  I  grudge  a  flower  to  fate 
When  the  whole  rose-garden  is  mine  ? 

DUCHESS 

Let  loose  my  hand,  your  arm  untwine ! 

Nay,  I  was  well  whereas  I  was. 

PIEPOWDER 

How  the  old  images  repass ! 

Say,  deftest  weaver  of  bright  things, 

Have  you  no  cunning  with  the  strings  ? 

I  did  not  think  God  had  graced  two 

Women's  small  heads  with  this  self  hue, 

Gold  honey-coloured;  so  soft  its  weight, 

So  rich  its  sweets  inviolate, 

So  live  it  curls  and  stirs,  awaking 

The  ancient  wound  to  set  that  aching! 

DUCHESS 

You  give  me,  God,  a  grievous  part, 
But  I  must  do  what  bids  my  heart, 
I  cannot  else.     The  lute,  then,  friend ! 
Long  since  I  had  some  skill  to  bend 
Less  sunburnt  fingers  on  the  frets. 
Is  it  so  —  and  so  ?     How  one  forgets ! 

Welladay  I 

Love  is  a  tyrannous  lord, 
How  shall  I  worship  accord, 
Or  set  my  feet  in  his  way? 

PIEPOWDER 

O  heart  superb,  are  you  found  here  ? 

O  littlest  comrade  and  most  dear; 

[73] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Close,  hand,  on  mine;  gird  up,  slight  form, 
To  dare  the  sun-shower  and  the  storm, 
To  ford  the  loud  stream,  swim  the  deep, 
And  by  the  roadside  fire  to  sleep. 
To  watch  the  horizon's  hill-cloven  rim 
As  we  mount  upward,  upward  swim 
All  round  us,  till  we  pluck  the  rose 
That  loves  the  silence  of  the  snows. 
Shall  we  not  go  at  birds'  first  stir  ? 

DUCHESS 

You  forget,  Messer  Piepowder. 

PIEPOWDER 

I  had  forgot.     Shepherd,  your  grace; 

My  brain  was  dizzy  for  a  space. 

Yet  we  may  sit  here  the  night  through 

And  talk  across  the  fire  as  do 

All  old  friends  ?     When  the  last  cocks  crow 

I  will  take  up  my  lute  and  go. 

You  are  the  master,  you  give  leave  ? 

SHEPHERD 

Stay  ever,  if  so  she  will  not  grieve. 

She  is  my  blood,  my  breath;  what  should, 

Save  her  desire,  become  my  good  ? 

DUCHESS 

An  hour  long,  or  a  life  long,  stay ! 

When  you  go,  goes  my  heart  away. 

You  breathe  the  unknown  of  dreams :  your  eyes 

Lighten  through  time's  immensities. 

[74] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

And  woofed  songs  of  sorrowful  laughter, 
And  sound  of  dead  feet  following  after, 
I  waken. 

DUCHESS 

In  enchantment  deep 
Long  laid,  my  spirit  shakes  off  her  sleep, 
And  plumes  her  mighty  wings,  and  light 
Poises  herself  for  sunward  flight. 
Her  pinions  rustle  and  unfurl. 

PlEPOWDER 

There  spoke  again  my  radiant  girl. 

DUCHESS 

O  long-beloved,  O  kind  and  dear, 
How  can  I  thus  depart  ?     Yet  hear 
The  quiring  call  from  peak  to  peak, 
The  way  of  love  is  still  to  seek; 
And  my  heart  owns  the  skyey  spell, 
The  secret  incommunicable, 
Therefore  I  go  whilst  you  abide. 

SHEPHERD 

So  —  may  I  speak  now  ?     I  have  tried 
Listening  the  spoken  word,  to  know 
The  unsaid  things  you  uttered  so. 
Your  noble  nature  shrinks  to  wound 
Mortally,  something  helpless  found 
And  leave  it  in  the  dark  to  moan. 
But  you  being  gone,  I  am  not  alone; 
For  all  the  hours  of  all  our  days 

[75] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Sit  by  me,  company  my  ways; 

The  peace  of  hopes  once  satisfied, 

Pride  of  possession  —  O  never  pride 

Had  such  rich  banquet  as  affords 

My  store,  of  memory's  unsunned  hoards ! 

I  shall  want  long  to  tell  them  all. 

Always  I  knew  this  must  befall; 

How  should  a  wordless  creature,  mute 

As  powers  that  swell  the  flowers  and  fruit, 

Fit  but  to  watch  the  woolly  herd, 

How  should  I  mew  a  strong-winged  bird  ? 

In  your  august  and  splendid  soul 

Never  could  such  fill  up  the  whole, 

Or  such  supply  your  high  heart's  food. 

Therefore,  in  full  glad  gratitude, 

0  only  love  and  stainless  sweet, 
Let  me  a  last  time  kiss  your  feet 
That  they  not  weary  nor  be  cold ! 

DUCHESS 

There  is  a  doctrine  old, 

There  is  a  rule  austere. 

Passing  I  have  no  fear 

Although  the  road  is  paved  with  pain : 

To  want  is  more  than  to  attain. 

1  go  in  humble  reverence 

Even  by  your  teaching,  shepherd,  hence, 
Leaving  you,  in  exchange,  a  token ; 
God's  love  breaks  not  as  mine  has  broken. 
Wayfarer,  on  the  open  road 
Your  tireless  strength  shall  know  no  load, 
Companioned  by  your  singing  heart. 
My  soul  and  I  must  dwell  apart: 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

We  have  to  learn,  being  all  untaught, 
The  miracles  by  silence  wrought, 
And  by  the  solitude  that  lies 
Inside  the  bosom. 

PIEPOWDER 

You  are  more  wise 

Than  aught  quite  mortal,  and  me,  a  fool, 
You  have  sent  back  to  bitter  school. 

DUCHESS 

No  bitterness  shall  tinge,  I  know, 

Messer  Piepowder,  your  dusky  glow. 

PIEPOWDER 

You  cannot  go  out  in  night  alone. 

SHEPHERD 

Nor,  solitary,  try  ways  unknown. 

DUCHESS 

Fie,  children,  frightened  of  the  dark ! 

I  have  ranged  this  mountain,  when  the  lark 

On  her  nest  shivered,  for  lambs  new  born, 

Or  an  aged  dog  the  wolf  had  torn. 

When  chill  day  whitens,  we  three  divide. 

With  you,  for  comrade  and  for  guide 

Go  patient  strength,  and  constant  will. 

SHEPHERD 

All  my  life  is  your  service  still, 

That  the  unguessed  fire  burn  strong  and  high 

Lest  you  feel  cold  and  know  not  why. 

[77] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

DUCHESS 

You,  bear  aloft  your  proper  fire, 

Unappeased,  unattained  desire; 

Nor  brow  nor  cheek  holds  more  of  light 

Than  windy  clouds  a  moonlight  night, 

Beauty  rides  high,  untouched,  austere, 

Far. 

PlEPOWDER 

Nay,  confessed  in  presence  here. 
You  are  a  heaven-born  stray  on  earth 
Seeking  the  country  of  your  birth; 
Angels,  your  first  playmates,  attend  you. 

DUCHESS 

Farewell:  a  sunshine  day  God  send  you. 
Now  all  is  said  that  may  beseem, 
And  look,  the  east  begins  to  dream ! 


[78] 


ACT   IV 

A  loggia,  opening  on  a  high  terrace:    below  may  be  seen  the 
palace  gate.     The  seven   Waiting  Gentlewomen. 

IPPOLYTA 

You  have  the  gem,  dear  Orsola, 

Safe  ? 

ORSOLA 

In  my  breast,  Ippolyta. 

LAODOMIA 

Mafalda  holds  the  girdle's  gold 

That  so  long  empty  lay,  and  cold. 

ISOTTA 

Its  daedal  stones,  cleft  never  apart, 

Soon  shall  be  warmed  against  her  heart. 

ARIANNA 

Here  is  the  deep-furred  pall. 

FlAMMETTA 

Her  state 

She  will  not  assume  ere  at  the  gate 
Showing  herself,  when  all  the  poor 
Her  mooned  beauty  caress  secure. 

[79] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

MAFALDA 

How  fair  she  comes ! 

IPPOLYTA 

The  Duke  is  by. 

ARIANNA 

What  if  the  marriage  song  we  try  ? 

THE  SEVEN  GENTLEWOMEN 
First  when  Phosphor  trembled,  lucent-pale, 

Ere  dawn's  rose  had  flowered  across  the  sky, 

When  a  chill  wind  restlessly 
All  the  jasmine's  sweets  had  shed 

And  withdrawn  day's  cloudy  veil, 
"Open  sweet  eyelids,"  cried  we,  "leave  your  maiden  bed 

We  have  cherished, 

And  your  white  dreams,  in  the  sun's  beams  at  last  to  bind 
The  noble  heart  fast  to  the  constant  mind!" 

DUCHESS 

Good-morrow  again,  hearts  debonair, 

Whose  excellency  can  declare 

No  tongue,  nor  compass  any  mind, 

Nor  time  on  earth  your  likeness  find. 

Look,  in  your  grace  my  soul  I  dress 

To-day,  you  lend  me  worthiness. 

ARIANNA 

Love  unearthly  and  without  spot 
The  forms  of  I  and  Thou  knows  not; 
We  vibrate  to  your  strong  control 
In  diapason  full,  one  soul. 

[80] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

DUKE 

Lingering  beside  this  marble  seat, 

Maids,  break  not  off:  your  cadence  sweet 

The  scaly  lizard  charms :  his  throat 

Tremulous,  quivers  to  the  note. 

With  lisp  and  plash  in  mossy  urn 

The  fountain  every  fall  and  turn 

Reiterates,  echoing  plaintively 

To  hollow  lilies  shaken  with  spray. 

The  seven  Gentlewomen,  withdrawn  in  the  loggia,  sing  among 
themselves  or  talk  by  snatches. 

THE  SEVEN 
Sun,  old  sun,  upon  the  small  gold  head 

By  its  heavy  tresses  overweighed, 
And  the  beryl-imvoven  braid, 

Rain  a  glory,  shroud  the  bride, 
All  her  goodly  white  and  red, 

Ardent,  fairer  than  the  pearl,  and  steady-eyed. 

From  our  side 

Secure  she  goes,  for  love  she  knows,  who  sole  can  bind 
The  noble  heart  fast  to  the  constant  mind. 

DUKE 

You  lost,  the  spark  of  soul  was  gone. 

The  huge  world's  substance  seemed  withdrawn, 

Till  among  shadowy  accidents 

Hollow  I  walked  in  blind  intents. 

Even  through  the  battle's  straining  force 

Where  man  cleaves  man,  horse  tears  at  horse, 

I  paused  to  question  why  I  strove 

And  scorned  the  useless  end  thereof; 

[8x] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Put  off  the  armour's  bright  inlay, 
Turned,  and  from  triumph  rode  away. 
At  Milan,  to  my  young  advice 
The  Emperor's  self  paid  honour  twice. 
He  walked,  an  arm  about  my  neck; 
There  hung  this  toy,  my  breast  to  deck 
With  Jason's  quest,  Medea's  wrong; 
I  was  glad  in  it  one  hour  long. 

ISOTTA 

Forth,  for  winter  is  past, 
Sweethearts,  at  last. 
Clouds  in  the  curded  blue 
Sail  whitely  aloft, 

Rains  rustle  soft 
Shimmering  with  sun-streaks  through. 

IPPOLYTA 

Crocus  and  tulip  trim 

Their  chalices  brim 
As  lessening  nights  allow. 

Tender  and  ardent  green, 
Rose-blooms  between, 
Fledges  the  youngling  bough. 

DUKE 

At  last  God  chose  I  go  to  Rome, 
And  in  the  shade  of  the  great  Dome 
Hold  with  the  Pope  some  conference; 
Great  prelates  dyed  the  audience 
Blood-red  and  Tyrian;  cap  at  knee 
Princes  assented,  I  and  he 
Having  our  say  out,  much  at  one; 

[82] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

And  when  the  lordly  farce  was  done 
And  I  was  sickening  for  home, 
—  For  it  stinks  in  my  nose,  does  Rome  — 
"Yet  I  will  speed  you,"  said  the  Pope, 
"As  Pontiff,"  and  I  saw  a  hope 
Where  other  talisman  was  none : 
A  mass  to  my  intention 
Said  by  a  saint  in  that  vast  gloom 
Which  shrines  the  prince-apostle's  tomb. 
Genial,  the  great  Pope  shook  his  head: 
"What  should  saints  do  at  Rome?"  he  said, 
Scanning  with  humorous  eye  the  throng 
Where  prides  and  pomps  and  lusts  showed  strong; 
Yet  through  gold,  purple,  scarlet,  lay 
An  ashen  thread,  Franciscan  grey. 
He  signed,  and  cat-like  stepped  to  call 
The  Order's  gaunt  shrewd  General. 
—  One  saint,  a  parish  priest,  might  be 
In  swarming,  foul  Trastevvere. 
Fetched  by  a  gorgeous  church-steward, 
At  nightfall  next,  I  pressed  him  hard 
To  do  mine  and  the  good  Pope's  will. 
White,  hushed,  and  meek,  he  checked  me  still: 
"I  can  ask  not  God  for  goods,  if  aught 
Less  than  all  good  be  blessing-fraught. 
So  your  heart's  wish  is  His  will  too, 
Each  instant  fills  the  soul  of  you." 
He  blessed  me  and  went;  each  day  again 
His  prayers  like  rain  have  fallen  since  then; 
Not  any  more  I  saw  his  face, 
Yet  in  my  heart  sprang  herb-of-grace, 
And  I  have  been  content  to  wait, 
Secure  God  lured  me  back  my  mate, 

[83] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Touched  your  arm,  led  feet  unbenighted 
Though  ways  should  wind  and  inns  invited; 
And  for  love's  sake,  unwearied 
I  have  ruled  my  people  as  in  your  stead. 

LAODOMIA 

Orange  bees  all  noon 

Will  drowse,  and  a  moon 
Will  dream  in  the  amber  west ; 
But  warm  hours  drift  away, 

Night  swallows  day; 
You  shall  pass  with  the  rest. 

DUKE 

I  rode,  that  day  of  earliest  frost, 

After  a  wounded  stag,  till,  lost 

My  way  in  mountain  fastnesses, 

In  icy  cell  an  anchoress 

Sheltered  the  deer,  but  succoured  me. 

DUCHESS 

That  day  is  safe  in  memory. 

DUKE 

In  cloth  of  frieze,  your  hair  close-bound, 
Folded  your  delicate  brows  around, 
Your  white  feet  as  the  white  frost  cold, 
You  stood,  like  the  worn  goddess  old 
On  that  last  Roman-bought  relief, 
And  for  surprise,  and  pity,  and  grief, 
My  calmed  soul  turned  sick  and  hot. 

DUCHESS 

I  was  at  peace,  though  you  were  not. 

[84] 


THE  WAY  OF  PERFECT  LOVE 

DUKE 

How  often  I  came  again,  how  prayed, 

Before  you  left  your  horrid  shade, 

Your  savage  rocks,  reluctant  came 

To  your  high  place  and  your  great  name 

And  the  splendid  ornaments  thereof. 

ARIANNA 

Death's  hand  strikes  on  the  door, 

Charon  his  oar 

Plies  where  the  light  ghosts  move. 
White  flesh  wastes  in  the  dust, 

Gold  hair  will  rust 
Though  lilies  sweeten  above. 

DUCHESS 

I  came,  for  these  were  here,  and  love. 

ORSOLA 

Kind  is  our  lord  love's  might 

But  brief  is  delight ; 
Live  in  the  hurrying  day! 
Fragrant  as  April  air, 

Supple  and  fair, 
Laugh  and  love  while  ye  may! 

FlAMMETTA 

Idle  and  light,  this  likes  me  ill. 

MAFALDA 

The  ancient  song  falls  sweetlier,  still. 

His  is  the  sign 

That  we  follow  after, 
By  tears  for  wine 

[85] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

And  sighing  for  laughter 
He  is  known  divine. 

THE  SEVEN 

Welladay! 

How  shall  one  service  accord, 
Or  set  her  feet  in  the  way 
Of  love,  our  tyrannous  lord? 

DUCHESS 

Ah,  my  dear  lord,  the  dusty  ways, 

The  mountain  sheep-cote's  earthlier  grace, 

The  wood  that  star-dawn  never  knew, 

Were  stages  on  the  road  to  you. 

DUKE 

You  are  the  same  she  who  one  day 

Held  converse  of  love's  perfect  way 

And  all  the  time  between  is  nought, 

Sunk  beyond  speech,  beyond  even  thought, 

Forgotten  of  us,  unguessed  of  men. 

DUCHESS 

Not  such  the  doctrine  you  spoke  then. 

Though  you  are,  my  lord,  no  neophyte, 

Affords  love's  quintessential  might 

Courage  in  this,  life's  ultimate  proof, 

To  fix  another  soul's  behoof, 

You  to  guide  ?  .  .  .     Love  is  the  unplumbed  green, 

Thither  flows  all,  it  is  salt  and  clean; 

And  love,  the  phoenix's  rich  pyre, 

Turns  all  to  hieratic  fire. 

So,  all  my  life  and  the  acts  thereof 

Are  parcel  of  this  moment's  love. 

[86] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Think  you  that  if  I  held  it  shame 

To  have  adored  twice,  thrice,  his  name 

Holy  —  not  held  it  excellence 

To  have  loved  nobly,  soul  and  sense, 

Should  I  stand  robed  to-day  to  wed  ? 

Should  I  not  be  this  long  time  dead  ? 

The  string  accordant  to  my  soul 

You  are,  the  part  that  makes  me  whole; 

One  blood  through  members  fashioned  like 

Flows,  in  our  breasts  the  same  hours  strike; 

Mine  are  your  folk,  this  duchy  great 

My  flesh  cries  out  to  as  my  state. 

These  I  would  serve  a  long  life  through, 

And  my  sweet  seven,  and,  dear  lord,  you. 

But  man  can  serve  not  till  he  is  free, 

And  hard  won  is  soul's  liberty. 

In  the  mid-forest's  chill  recess 

The  virtue  I  proved  of  loneliness, 

The  discipline  of  the  heart  self-known, 

The  grace  of  recollection : 

Till  the  ancient  oaks  uttered  their  spell 

One  hour,  the  light  turned  audible; 

Till  the  eye,  —  threading  the  thick  wood 

At  noon,  where  slender  and  listening,  stood 

Dark  stems  'mid  delicate  boughs,  all  seen 

In  a  strange  air,  golden  and  green  — 

Grew  penetrant,  felt  at  point  to  see 

Not  far  depths,  but  infinity. 

Thereafter  I  knew,  who  loves  one  form 

How  bright  soever,  how  white  and  warm 

And  tender,  all  fairness  learns  to  love. 

And  the  vision  grew,  winging  above, 

Where  lovely  ideas  and  dreams  abide, 

[87] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Delicate  poesy,  slumberous-eyed 
Music,  the  ardours  of  poignant  life; 
So,  beyond  time's  drift,  fortune's  strife, 
—  Spirit  and  blood  being  stricken  mute  — 
Last,  I  saw  Beauty  absolute, 
One,  unalloyed;  in  whose  compare 
Our  growing,  perishing  earthly  fair 
Is  as  cloud-shadow  on  waters  fleet; 
Waning  nor  waxing  not,  complete, 
Self-poised;  'mid  thought's  evanishings 
Stablest  of  perdurable  things. 
I  walk,  since  orbed  that  hour  on  me, 
Free,  in  that  light  see  differently 
Perhaps.     You  have  my  doctrine,  have 
My  love  on  earth  and  in  the  grave; 
Your  own  so  equal  is  in  measure 
That  each  can  give  exhaustless  treasure 
A  life  long,  without  bankruptcy, 
So,  no  debts  lie  'twixt  you  and  me. 
One  thing  I  owe:  this  shining  seven, 
In  love  than  yours  more  perfect  even, 
Shame  for  my  sake  long  underwent. 
Therefore  it  is  my  fixed  intent 
An  hour  hence  at  the  palace  gate 
Where  children  and  old  women  wait 
Already,  and  all  the  town  shall  be 
Greeting  their  duchess  honourably, 
That  my  handmaiden's  names  be  clean 
To  tell  the  tale  of  what  has  been. 

DUKE 

Though  many  a  swine  your  pearls  will  swill, 

My  Duchess,  do  your  gallant  will. 

[88] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

I  will  draw  up  my  troops  at  hand 
So  clowns  who  no  word  understand 
With  a  foul  word  flush  not  your  cheek. 

DUCHESS 

Wrong  them  not.     To  a  spirit  meek 

The  simple  heart  is  ever  kind. 

DUKE 

You  shame  me  to  a  better  mind; 

Say  what  you  will,  it  shall  be  right. 

IPPOLYTA 

Please  you,  madonna,  to  be  dight  ? 
All  the  townsfolk  already  are  come. 
Can  you  not  hear  the  insistent  hum  ? 

DUCHESS 

Mount  to  the  loggia,  and  there  deck  me 

Duchess  and  spouse,  fair  as  men  reck  me. 

First  kiss  me,  hearts.     Child,  your  dense  hair 

Lies  on  your  neck  too  much.     Unware 

Grown  softer,  are  grown  no  whit  less  wise, 

Laodomia,  your  brown-green  eyes. 

Isotta  of  the  arched  brows, 

You  are  pale  with  sitting  in  the  house 

At  virginals  or  broidery. 

Fiammetta's  thin  red  mouth  to  me 

Sweeter  than  wine  is.     Orsola, 

Your  whiter  hands  than  cassia 

Must  bind  the  jewel's  flickering  light 

Upon  my  brow  —  nay,  bind  it  tight, 

My  father's  name  is  in  the  glow. 

The  girdle,  quick,  Mafalda.     So ! 

[89] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Though  I,  now  being  no  more  free, 
Love-cinctured  go  contentedly, 
Still,  let  me  pause  a  breath,  and  rest 
My  head  upon  your  fragrant  breast 
Before  my  state  I  take  upon. 
The  momentary  chill  is  done. 
Now  clasp  the  heavy  minever 
About  my  throat,  than  yours  less  fair, 
Arianna.     Maids,  ring  me  around. 
My  Duke  awaits,  on  this  high  ground 
The  last  thing  I  shall  do  alone. 

The  Duchess  goes  down  the  steps,  surrounded  by  her  gentle 
women,  and  crosses  the  lower  terrace  toward  the  stair  which 
mounts  from  the  gate.  From  the  bench  by  the  fountain,  the  Duke 
and  those  who  join  him  can  see  but  cannot  hear. 

The  one-time  shepherd,  cowled  and  habited  in  the  white  Car 
thusian  dress,  separates  from  the  compact  and  motley  crowd  which 
is  about  the  Duchess,  and  passing  along  the  lowest  terrace,  climbs 
by  narrower  steps  to  where  stands  the  Duke  in  dark  dress  and 
unattended.  Afterwards  from  the  same  direction  comes  Pie- 
powder  and  salutes  the  Duke. 

DUKE 

Day  shadows  o'er  when  she  is  gone. 
O  radiant  heart  immaculate, 
Stronger  than  change,  surer  than  fate, 
God  keep  me  in  your  light !     Amen. 
Who  leaves  the  eager,  crowding  men  ? 

SHEPHERD 

That  flower  of  all  sweet  eloquence, 

Mirror  of  wit,  her  Excellence 

The  Duchess,  I  have  words  for  her. 

[90] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

DUKE 

Yonder  from  down  the  marble  stair 
The  Duchess  talks  with  her  own  folk 
Freely,  and  when  the  rest  have  spoke, 
Father,  you  shall  command  her  ear. 

SHEPHERD 

Let  me  attend  her  coming  here. 

DUKE 

Does  your  despatch  come  from  afar  ? 

SHEPHERD 

Farther  beyond  the  farthest  star 

Than  that  from  us.     God  led  me  hither 

Who  went,  last  night,  I  knew  not  whither. 

I  thought  I  lay  in  town  to  assist 

But  at  the  Blessed  Eucharist 

Where  the  cathedral  rears  in  air 

Its  storied  front  above  the  square, 

With  twisted  shafts  about  the  door 

On  lions  based,  each  grinning  o'er 

A  hind  he  rends  with  blood  impassioned,  - 

All  of  old  sullen  porphyry  fashioned. 

Mass  done,  I  drifted  with  the  press 

Of  citizens  in  feast-day  dress 

That  jostled  palaceward;  and,  free 

While  velvet  stuffs  and  cramoisie 

Trailed  down  the  marble,  flight  by  flight, 

And  a  star  shook  on  her  brows  white, 

Descending,  ringed  by  girls,  in  guise 

Like  pied  and  fluttering  butterflies, 

Shone,  like  a  dream  remembered, 

That  gold,  that  unforgotten  head ! 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

DUKE 

Under  your  hood  —  stay,  whose  that  song  ? 

For  lute  and  voice  the  strain  prolong. 

PIEPOWDER 

The  faithful  heart  no  murmurous  peace  requireth, 

Nor  richer  joy  desireth 

Than  leave  to  worship  meetly. 
O  love  fulfilled,  though  two  be  one  completely, 

Ends  all  love  so? 

0  no,  no,  no,  no! 
Yet  interfused  quires  consort  most  sweetly. 

Though  passion  into  song  can  hammer  sorrow, 

And  discord  raptures  borrow, 

And  faith  most  flourish  thwarted, 
Tea,  love  grow  heavenhest  whenas  loves  are  parted, 

Ends  all  love  so? 

O  no,  no,  no,  no ! 
For  love  denied  fares  ever  lonely-hearted. 

Your  Excellence,  when,  this  holiday, 
The  whole  poor  world  has  leave  to  stray, 
Hear  graciously  a  poor  lute-player 
Who  rests,  your  constant  good-luck-prayer. 

DUKE 

Is  the  speech  at  the  gateway  done  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

Our  Duchess-lady  had  scarce  begun, 
The  throng  so  flocked  and  cried,  to  bless 
Her  strength  refound  and  loveliness. 

[92] 


THE   WAY  OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

What,  shepherd,  so  you  did  find  God, 
As  you  were  sent  ? 

SHEPHERD 

By  paths  untrod 

I  have  reached,  at  last,  love's  perfect  way. 
What  fetched  you  hither  on  this  day, 
Messer  Piepowder  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

To  look  upon 

Once  more  those  emeralds,  and  be  gone 
Ever  on  my  tireless  march  again; 
Great  gladness  bought  with  such  small  pain. 
Highness,  you  stand  displeased  and  loth, 
But  the  same  power  that  called  us  both 
Calls  the  stork  back  from  Pyramids 
When  spring  first  opens  rose-flushed  lids, 
And  in  bright  streams  distils  the  snow. 

DUKE 

Your  excellent  good  wills  I  know, 
And  take  your  hands  each,  if  I  may; 
I  am  more  moved  than  I  can  say. 
Yet  if  you  go  my  thanks  are  doubled  — 
I  would  not  have  the  Duchess  troubled. 

PIEPOWDER 

She  is  worth,  kind  lord,  a  lustier  faith, 

Who  proves  not,  loves  not,  the  word  saith. 

She  who  would  nor  eat  nor  drink  with  me 

Owning  another  loyalty, 

She  who  has  deigned  become  your  spouse 

[93] 


THE   WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

To  bear  sons  to  your  princely  house, 
She,  whom  this  monk  is  jealous  of 
For  God  and  not  for  any  love 
Touched  humanly,  —  O,  Duke,  you  miss 
The  very,  unmatched,  pearl  she  is, 
By  which  rock-veined  soft  gold  is  dust, 
If  in  your  deep  heart's  treasury,  trust 
Be  so  a-wanting ! 

DUKE 

Truth  indeed, 

But  the  fault  springs  from  bitter  need. 
Loving  a  visitant  high  and  wise 
How  shall  I  find  grace  in  her  eyes  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

So  as  in  God's  eyes,  even  by  grace, 

And  grow  by  gazing  on  her  face. 

That,  brother  austere,  why  venture  seeing  ? 

No  adept  you  of  vivid  Being, 

Preaching  pain's  perfect  alchemy. 

SHEPHERD 

I  would  teach  immortal  ecstasy. 
First,  I  would  hold  her  ear  with  song. 
Comrade,  my  pipe  is  lost  since  long, 
Touch  you  your  lute,  but  wistfully, 
And  let  my  poor  weak  cunning  try 
Again  the  tender  dawn-song  over. 

An  hour  before  the  weeping  day 

Had  fired  the  white  and  green, 
Three  Maries  took  the  garden  way, 

[94] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

And  one  was  Magdalene. 

They  talked  of  great  doors  barred  and  locked 
And  nobody  astir, 

They  found  an  empty  cave,  that  mocked 
The  fine  lawn  and  the  myrrh. 

Yet  one  tear-blinded  girl  did  meet- 
She  thought,  the  gardener ; 

She  fell  to  kiss  his  wounded  feet : 
"Mary!"  he  said  to  her. 

Pray,  were  not  that  the  worthiest  lover 
For  the  white  soul  ?     Then  I  should  say, 
-  I  have  rehearsed  it  day  by  day: 
All  things  go  by,  and  change,  and  are  no  more, 
And  that  can  never  be  which  was  before. 
The  perfect  kiss  of  perfect  lovers,  the  hour 
Which  is  an  amorous  lifetime's  fieriest  flower 
Withers,  the  instant  fleets,  the  love  may  range 
Or  die,  for  what  shall  be  sure,  except  change  ? 
Then  from  this  tragic  and  tumultuous  sea, 
This  refluent  waste  of  mutability, 
Where  we  lie  drowning,  palsied  feet  and  breast, 
Or  drift,  where  nothing  stable  is  to  rest, 
Is  there  no  rescue  ?     Yea.     One  walks  dry-shod 
On  the  shifting  waves  to  take  us:     He  is  God. 
And  all  the  crash  and  thunder  of  the  sea 
Turns  to  the  silence  of  His  constancy, 
When  we  find,  lying  close  upon  His  breast, 
That  the  wheel's  centre,  absolute,  is  at  rest. 
Exiles  we  wander,  stubborn  sons  of  Eve, 
Striving  the  grey  day's  burdens  to  deceive, 
And  to  the  night's  hot  languors  to  afford 
Relief,  in  vain,  all  vain,  not  knowing,  O  Lord, 

[95] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE    , 

Thou  didst  create  us  for  Thyself,  and  we 

Can  for  our  souls  find  rest  only  in  Thee. 

But  O  how  poor,  how  dull  is  sense, 

How  strait,  to  measure  the  immense, 

How  dark,  to  scan  deep  space  withdrawn, 

When  in  the  pallid  air  of  dawn 

To  seek  the  bride,  the  Heavenly  Spouse 

Comes  to  the  dim  and  low-browed  house ! 

The  vigilant  soul,  that  when  He  knocks 

Opens,  shall  find  her  Master's  locks 

Damp  with  chill  dew,  His  wounded  feet 

With  spikenard  and  camphire  sweet. 

O  now  not  hers  to  watch  and  miss, 

The  Master  comes  and  calls  for  His. 

Along  the  pleached  herby  walk 

Rose-girt,  she  goes  in  tender  talk 

With  frankincense  about  her  shed; 

She  hears  the  stir  above  her  head 

Of  unseen  wings,  presences  holy 

Henceforth  to  wait  upon  her  lowly 

And  at  her  will  tune  their  bright  throats 

In  rapturous  descant,  their  own  notes 

Seraphic,  which  they  used  to  sing 

Age-long  and  sleepless,  —  echoing 

From  the  pearl-gated  city  white 

Firm-stablished  upon  chrysolite. 

Yea,  and  that  glorious  city  has  come  down 

Decked  like  a  bride;   the  Lamb  reigns  from  His  throne  ! 

For  where  the  clustered  shafts  that  never  tire 

j^ift  the  far,  shadowy  vaulting  to  aspire, 

And  through  tV»e  hushed,  warm,  odorous  dusk  the  eyes 

Mark,  far  aloft,  bluer  than  deep  noon  skies, 

Or  decked  in  ardent  reds  past  day-set's  glories, 

[96] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Ranged  round,  the  potentates  of  saintly  stones : 

When,  at  the  hours  on  either  edge  of  night, 

The  sapphire  panes  blaze  with  their  proper  light 

Unearthly,  when  the  vast  space  tremulous 

Grows  with  deep  plaintive  song  melodious, 

That  turns  and  falls  and  mounts  to  sudden  cry 

As  I  have  seen  a  bird  in  great  winds  fly: 

When  the  pale  tapers  ray  their  pointed  fires, 

When  the  orient  incense  wreathes  in  thickening  spires 

Or  filmy  smokes,  evermore  upward  bearing 

A  thousand  grieved  prayers  in  their  heaven-faring: 

When,  stiff  with  gold  and  scarlet,  jewel-sown, 

The  priest  invests  pomp  the  Lord  would  not  own, 

The  sad  world's  gifts  in  homage  brought  too  late 

To  Him  who  went  but  once  in  purple  state, 

Yet  is  Kings'  King  and  Emperors'  Emperor 

And  reigns  in  splendour  ever  and  ever  more: 

When  hearts  are  hushed,  and  eyes  are  veiled,  alone, 

Organs  and  quires  checking  their  jubilant  tone, 

Then  the  sharp  sacring-bell  shrills  out  to  tell 

What  overhead  the  bourdon's  heavy  knell 

Gives  on  —  the  word  through  the  wide  careless  town, 

This  is  my  Body:  for  God  has  come  down. 

Even  the  fair  Christ  that  supped  with  His  beloved 

Stands  on  the  altar-stone  in  Presence  proved, 

And  all  the  throng  of  bygone  years  and  ways 

Rings  Him  around,  deepening  the  incense-haze. 

Salt  sweat,  tears,  blood,  all  anguish  spirits  have  borne, 

Flames  of  triumphant  hopes,  or  joys  forlorn, 

All  men  aspired  to,  sought  or  dreamed  or  planned, 

He  holds  in  the  hollow  of  His  pierced  h-ind; 

While,  seen  as  rays  around  His  dazzling  brows, 

Muster  the  saints  and  servants  of  His  house. 

[97] 


THE  WAY  OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

Since,  then,  so  brief  and  evil  is  our  day 
And  such  delight  harbours  love's  perfect  way, 
O,  if  you  love,  must  it  not  stand  approved 
You  will  turn  thitherward  those  feet  beloved  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

The  people,  who  as  hushed  have  been 
As  before  storms  the  wood-folk  green, 
Murmur  and  stir  under  the  winds 
That  blow  about  their  startled  minds. 
Here  come  three  ancient  spinners,  who 
Shall  tell  us  all  the  discourse  through. 

DUKE 

I  will  stand  back;  set  them  to  talk. 

MADDALENA 

Bless  me  —  not  one  step  more  I  walk  ! 

EVA 

Sit  here.     These  gentlemen  are  good. 

MICAELA 

And  player's  hosen  and  white  monk's  hood 

Own  to  the  distaff  kinship  near. 

MADDALENA 

Messer  Piepowder,  what  halts  you  here  ? 

PIEPOWDER 

What  brings  you,  gossip  ? 

EVA 

To  see  her  wed 
Who  has  come  back  as  from  the  dead. 

[98] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

Pray  you,  for  us  resume  her  speech, 
For  we  were  out  of  hearing's  reach. 

MADDALENA 

Who  knows  her  matter  ? 

EVA 

Nay,  not  I. 

Some  such  perhaps  as  stood  close  by, 
For  the  throng  pressed  with  murmurous  noise 
And  buzzed  above  her  singing  voice. 

MICAELA 

No  soul  divined  her  gracious  words. 
Ears  not  attuned  to  such  high  chords 
Hear  nothing,  or  a  tuneless  babble. 

EVA 

Fawning  on  her  came  all  the  rabble. 

MICAELA 

They  kissed  her  hands,  her  garmenting. 

MADDALENA 

Surely,  she  is  a  blessed  thing. 

PlEPOWDER 

Mark  how  the  single  eye  can  hit 
And  simple  heart  sees  more  than  wit. 

DUKE 

Stir  not,  good  souls,  but  spin  and  rest. 

[99] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

THE  THREE  SPINNERS 

Our  duty  is  our  lord's  behest. 

DUKE 

You  have  loved  the  Duchess  long,  and  for 

Her  goodly  father's  sake  of  yore  ? 

MADDALENA 

I  mind  her  lady  mother,  who  died. 

She  was  of  Siena,  narrow-eyed 

And  dolorous-lipped.     The  wind's  caress 

Breathed  languorous  on  her  loveliness. 

Her  long,  slim  fingers  frail,  showed  flame 

Against  the  sun:  her  delicate  name, 

Monna  Alessandra,  on  all  men's  tongue 

Grew  Fiordespina;  and  poets  sung 

As  Biancofiore  her  soul-fraught  flesh. 

How  slept  the  sun  in  her  locks'  pale  mesh ! 

EVA 

Where  our  sweet  lady's  feet  have  been 

Violets  must  stud  the  enamel  green 

For  she  walks  chastely;  her  large  eyes  fair, 

Tinged  with  cold  green  of  sea-water, 

Set  singing,  where  they  rest,  one  string, 

And  the  heart  vibrates,  worshipping. 

MICAELA 

Highness,  God  sometimes  makes  a  creature 

Of  heavenly  stuff"  though  human  feature, 

Aloof  from  even  the  scent  of  sin, 

Illuminate  by  a  light  within. 

To  such  are  penitence,  grief,  regret, 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Alien,  illusory,  fiend-beset: 

Woe  to  whoso  offends  them,  woe ! 

God  sets  their  feet  where  they  should  go. 

DUCHESS 

Was  I  an  hour  ?     The  kindly  throng 

In  strong  love,  confidence  more  strong, 

Made  me  their  voice  and  minister 

To  my  girls.     Messer  Piepowder! 

God  give  you  grace  of  the  wise  feet 

That  fetched  you  hither  to  make  complete 

This  glad  day's  gladness.     I  take  each  hand 

Nay,  kiss  my  two  cheeks  —  nay,  but  stand  ! 

Are  we  not  comrades,  through  all  years 

Fellow-adepts  and  high  compeers 

In  that  good  order  of  dusty-foot 

War  cannot  scatter  or  sloth  uproot  ? 

Dear  spouse  and  lord,  here  I  commend 

My  bosom-jewel  to  you  for  friend; 

And  this  third,  where  but  two  have  been, 

Pray  you  admit,  dear  Peregrin'. 

You  shall  initiate  of  your  craft, 

Teach  him  the  lost  word  night  winds  waft, 

And  that  the  green-streaked  torrents  cry, 

And  the  great  silence  of  the  sky. 

But  through  the  dark  months  ominous 

You  and  your  lute  shall  sit  with  us, 

Solace  with  song  the  rain-bound  days, 

Honour  our  palace  with  your  bays. 

DUKE 

The  spell  is  broken  whereby  he  drew  her 

But  it  shall  call  his  spirit  to  her. 

[101] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

PlEPOWDER 

Say,  Duchess,  are  your  soft  white  feet 
Safe  in  the  way  of  all  most  sweet  ? 
Nay,  speak  not;  on  your  folded  lips, 
And  in  your  eyes'  sudden  eclipse 
I  read,  and  knowing,  I  am  content. 

The   seven    Gentlewomen    return   with   garlands    to    fetch    the 
spouse. 

ARIANNA 

It  is  time  your  Excellencies  went; 
The  hall  fills  up  with  wedding  guests, 
But  the  Duke  dreams  and  the  day  rests. 

DUCHESS 

Aye.     Sleeps,  then,  dear  Piepowder,  a  hope 

Till  snow-clouds  first  blanch  the  blue  cope. 

DUKE 

Good  friends,  farewell.     Have  me  at  heart. 

You,  too,  farewell,  who  stand  apart. 

THE  SEVEN 

Roses,  flushing  faint  auroral  white, 

Others  heavy-headed,  gold  and  red, 

In  old  gardens  nourished, 
Frail  narcissus,  troubled  sweet 

As  a  pale  saint's  dreams  at  night, 
Bay  leaves  crushed  to  glad  the  dust  before  her  feet, 

All  odours  meet, 

Bring  and  strew,  only  no  rue.     Here  time  shall  bind 
The  noble  heart  fast  to  the  constant  mind. 

[  102] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

SHEPHERD 

Stay,  tender-heart,  dear  brightness,  stay ! 

MADDALENA 

You  that  cry,  what  have  you  to  say  ? 

SHEPHERD 

O  I  would  woo  her  love  to  God, 

Leading  her  where  His  pierced  feet  trod ! 

EVA 

Let  her  alone !     A  baby's  hand 
Groping  upon  her  bosom  bland 
Will  teach  her  more  of  God  on  high 
Than  all  your  stored  divinity. 

MADDALENA 

Let  her  alone !     The  sweet  Lord  said 
By  love  alone  all  debts  were  paid. 
Her  love  is  infinite:     He  knows. 

MICAELA 

Let  her  alone !     The  Spirit  blows : 

His  wisdom  is  immutable, 

So  are  His  ways  inscrutable, 

Yet  souls  endure  unto  the  end, 

And  such  are  saved. 

PIEPOWDER 

They  speak  truth,  friend. 
Whither  your  way  ?     The  sun  swings  down. 

[103] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

SHEPHERD 

My  convent  is  a  mountain's  crown. 

God's  angels  there  take  up  abode. 

PIEPOWDER 

For  me  the  secular  Roman  road 
That  runs,  a  dusty  shimmering  band, 
From  sea  to  sea  slantwise  the  land. 
Gossips,  I  will  bring  you  a  new  song 
When  I  come  next. 

THE  THREE  SPINNERS 

Be  that  not  long; 
God  bless  your  merry  heart. 

MADDALENA 

The  heart 
That  laughs  must  ache. 

EVA 

'Tis  the  wise  part, 

For  sorrow  knocks  at  each  man's  door 
But  mirth  lies  liefest  with  the  poor. 

MICAELA 

He  that  hath  played  for  a  great  stake 

His  heart  may  ache  but  shall  not  break. 

THE  THREE  SPINNERS 

Good  son,  God  keep  you  in  his  sight. 

SHEPHERD 

Farewell.     I  have  far  to  go  ere  night. 

Will  you  not  turn  to  follow  God, 

[  104] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT  LOVE 

Even  to  endure  the  yoke  and  rod  ? 

For  He  exacts  abjection  first 

But  by  grey  Penance,  Peace  is  nursed. 

PIEPOWDER 

Who  can  redeem  his  brother's  soul  ? 

We  shall  meet,  may  be,  at  the  goal. 

Though  now  our  several  ways  divide 

Even  as  straight  lines,  once  crossed,  run  wide. 

If  yours  is  hot  and  rough  and  long, 

Go  with  God's  blessing  and  a  song. 

SHEPHERD 

I  wish  you  song,  and  blessing  too, 

Cool  to  sick  hearts  as  breathing  dew. 

PIEPOWDER 

Free,  strong,  and  bearing,  not  in  vain, 

A  not-intolerable  pain, 

Out  of  the  scents  and  smoke  and  smother 

Alone  I  go  to  the  great  mother. 

Warm  earth's  green  bosom  shall  give  me  rest 

And  strength  the  grey  sea's  heaving  breast, 

The  winnowing  winds  shall  search  my  soul. 

When  solemn  hours  resume  the  pole 

And  pale-stemmed  lines  of  poplars  gleam 

That  sigh  and  whisper  along  a  stream, 

Couched  by  the  great  road's  glimmering  white 

I  shall  behold  and  hear  all  night 

Along  the  skyey  battlement 

The  starry  sentinels  ambient, 

Where  down  the  dark  o'er-beetling  walls 

Arcturus  to  Antares  calls 

[105] 


THE  WAY   OF  ^PERFECT   LOVE 

Till,  to  pass  on  the  mighty  cry, 
Aldebaran  climbs  up  the  sky. 
Then,  while  cold  night-airs  drowse  and  stir, 
My  heart  shall  keep  the  watch  with  her. 
So  shall  forever-young  desire, 
Quickened  and  warmed  by  his  own  fire, 
Following  the  still-advancing  goal, 
Guard  silence  in  the  enfranchised  soul. 


[106] 


INTERPRETATION 

OF  this  mystery,  as  of  all,  there  are  divers  interpre 
tations.  The  Duchess  signifies  Nature  Benign,  as  may  be 
guessed  from  the  Shepherd's  first  song  in  recognition  of 
her.  The  Wayfarer  is  the  poet,  for  whom  she  is  forever 
the  Beloved,  but  yet  less  dear  than  the  abstract  and  the 
eternal.  The  Shepherd  is  the  natural  man,  for  whom 
she  is  all  that  is,  until  she  shows  him  God,  and  then  he 
seeks  her  no  more  save  as  he  would  bring  her  into  the 
glorious  manifestation  of  redemption :  the  Duke  is  the 
man  of  science  and  the  modern.  Nature  is  his  mate  and 
his  helper,  by  alliance  with  whom  the  sufferings  of  the 
masses  shall  be  allayed,  and  all  power  reach  attainment, 
all  activity  accomplishment. 

Or,  otherwise  construed,  the  Duchess  may  be  the 
human  soul,  that  seeks  in  this  way  and  that  after  perfec 
tion.  The  Wayfarer's  is  the  life  of  the  imagination  and 
of  reason;  it  is  chilly,  exacting,  and  barren:  the  Shep 
herd's  is  the  life  of  the  affections  and  beauty,  and,  as 
Faustus  knew,  the  spirit  turns  to  that  only  when  foiled 
and  weary.  Neither  can  it  satisfy  always.  The  noble 
mind  still  feels  the  call  to  adventures  and  ideals  too  high 
for  it,  and  finds  content  at  last  in  a  life  of  complexity 
and  ceaseless  endeavour.  Equally  and  rightfully  mated, 
in  a  world  of  duties  and  responsibilities,  of  friendships 
and  mutual  loyalties,  the  Duchess  looks  for  faithful 
companionship  to  the  Wanderer,  but  she  does  not  even 
recognise  the  Shepherd  under  his  white  hood. 

[107] 


THE  WAY   OF   PERFECT   LOVE 

A  third  reading  shall  be  for  the  nonce  enough.  The 
three  Spinners  stand  for  the  wisdom  of  the  world  in  its 
better  no  less  than  its  baser  aspects;  their  whimsical 
favour  is  won  by  quiet  scorn,  their  profound  comprehen 
sion  is  just  and  true.  The  Way  is  Life,  which  each  soul, 
so  it  seeks  not  ignobly,  shall  ultimately,  in  its  own  kind, 
find  the  way  of  perfection. 


[108] 


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